


Not Quite Gods: Undertow

by ANaTHEMaDEVIsed



Series: Not Quite Gods [1]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supergirl (TV 2015), Witches of East End (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Girl Penis, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-24 21:42:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 116,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6167719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANaTHEMaDEVIsed/pseuds/ANaTHEMaDEVIsed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the DC Universe, there is a planet populated by “witches” called Naltor.  What if the ancient ancestors of the Charmed One's originated from that planet?  If Naltor and Krypton were close neighboring planets in the same galaxy, perhaps what follows is what happened when Kara Zor-El of Krypton meets Paige Matthews, The Last W'Arr En of Naltor.  Drawing heavily on the Ancient Aliens theories and the Book of Enoch from the bible, this story explores the origin of what human mythology typifies as witches and their place in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Read The Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: 
> 
> I borrowed the format of this title page and the wording of the disclaimer in its entirety from Heartsways on Passion Perfect. Thank you! 
> 
> This fic touches on a sexual relationship between adoptive sisters. If you find this subject disturbing, be forewarned. Explicit rating and G!P tag applies to the final two sections of chapter seven. 
> 
> Sorry no Beta and still editing. Read at your own peril.
> 
> Inspiration for this story: Ultimately the intent in creating Dark!Supergirl is to write a character that after a seriously violent trauma at age 12, and being forced to revisit that trauma at age 25 through escalating violence, a psychic incursion by an alien plant, the death of her last family member who shared her life on Krypton and learning that this death is at the hands of the only person she truly trusts, Kara experiences a state of dissociative identity. There is the part of her who is pre-Supergirl Kara Danvers and there is the part of her who is becoming General Kara Zor-El. In order for these two new personalities to thrive the dual Kara/Supergirl construct is eliminated. The first indication of this is when Kara says she’ll never put on the cape again. Inspiration drawn from Evie’s journey in V for Vendetta, also Sia’s songs Titanium and Elastic Heart. Kara can no longer hold onto innocence if she intends to be a true hero. A true hero isn’t for hire by a government agency and a true hero may on occasion find blood on her hands. 
> 
> Also to be noted, some of my choices have been influenced by lots of what I love and admire or consider worthy of homage in some way shape or form. Recently, I’ve been reading sci-fi writer Scott Meyer and fallen deeply in love with the television show the Magicians, a dual source of inspiration in this process of envisioning Paige's character developing mastery of her power through dedicated study not just a supernatural inheritance. I am an absolute dance enthusiast. I spend an inordinate amount of my free time absorbing choreo videos on YouTube. Part of my inspiration for the way Paige taps into the magical energy of the world comes from this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RF6kV2MVxw&list=WL&index=5. See timestamp 1:20. 
> 
> Simply put, #BlackHermione. DO Not Proceed if you do not agree. Cause that's the way it is. 
> 
> By length, this fic is a novel. It is riven with angst and some instances of violence and explicit sex. In imitation of real life, I cannot guarantee an arbitrarily happy ending. I call that fair warning.
> 
> Disclaimer:
> 
> All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work belong to their respective owners. As this material is an interpretation of the original and not for profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Dear Readers,

I've thoroughly enjoyed writing Not Quite Gods. I intend to continue writing it as a chapter by chapter serial. I will say, even if you do not enjoy the adventures I've dreamed for these characters, I appreciate you taking the time to read them. In the interim, I encourage you to read the notes and expect teasers if curious about where NQG is headed next. Please be advised that there are lots of warnings and disclaimers. It is not my intent to trigger unsuspecting readers with anything I've written. It's all meant in good fun and not intended to offend or traumatize by any stretch of the imagination. If you find that you are sensitive to the subjects contained herein, please by all means, do not continue beyond this chapter. I'd prefer to remain unapologetic about the choices I've made with these characters and the adventures in which they partake. I'd also prefer to sleep soundly knowing that no one has been hurt in some way by anything I've written. Thank you again for taking the time to read and I hope to hear from you.

Kindly,  
ANaTHEMaDEVIsed


	2. Please Read The Notes

Wherein our protagonists meet.

 

"Where I come from, that's not magic." Kara murmured, eyeing the girl contemplatively.

"Oh yeah, then what do you call it?" Paige smirked. She didn't often encounter someone so blase about the sudden reveal of Paige's unique abilities. Of course, she didn’t often orb to intervene in what clearly appeared to be a burgeoning attempt at suicide only to be shooed away like a meddler.   
“Just FYI, normal people don’t hang out on the ledges of abandoned buildings in the middle of the night. Your situation appeared precarious to say the least.”

“I’m Kara.” Paige's eyes widened as she watched Kara, arms crossed, float upwards to hover six feet above the ledge on which she had perched. "And where I come from, we call this …” Kara did a somersault to emphasize her point, “Science. Trust me it’s not, to say the least, precarious.”

“So you’ve seen …” Paige gestured vaguely at herself.

“Oh yeah,” Kara nodded. “I’ve seen.” She let herself drift back down until her feet were squarely on the roof.

“I’m Paige by the way.” Paige toed the uneven concrete of the building’s dilapidated roof, before shrugging and extending her hand to shake. Kara took it pleasantly enough. 

“Charmed.” Kara nodded, giving Paige’s hand a loose shake.

“Huh?” Paige eyed Kara first shocked then suspicious. “I mean, how’d you know?”

“Alright well this has been … just weird enough to encourage me to call it a night so …”

“Wait wait.” Paige implored, putting her hands up to dissuade what looked like it could be a swift departure on Kara’s part. If Paige were going to characterize a possible take off to flight position, having seen Phoebe take to the air quite enough times, Kara’s compressed stance with elbows thrust back and fists clenched definitely said, See Ya. “What I meant was, how do you know about witches?” Kara shook her head nonplussed.

“I don’t, actually, know anything about witches.” Kara relaxed to gesture towards Paige. “I assume that’s what you’re about to tell me. You’re a witch?”

“You don’t exactly seem surprised.” Paige lifted her brows in expectation, “Most people are a bit thrown when I orb in unannounced.” 

“Do I seem like most people to you?” Kara tilted her head beginning to question the girl’s reason. Aside from her cousin, she hadn’t met many people likely to reveal a special ability to a stranger, albeit in the name of an act of altruism.

“No.” Paige shook her head, grinning. “You don’t.” Kara had to admit. Paige’s grin was nothing if not infectious. “Can I … buy you a drink? Pick your brain?” 

Glancing upward at the night sky, it was impossible to properly revel in the shine of constellations here in the city. Impossible to hear the sea over the sounds of people’s lives intertwined in so many ways. Solitude was an unlikely bargain under the best of circumstances. Kara shrugged, nodded.

“Sure, why not. I’m in no hurry”

 

 

Coming Undone

 

“I am not afraid, father.” Kara had spoken those words on the day her whole life changed. On the day her world died and all she’d ever known disappeared with it, she’d feigned the type of courage that requires a sightless determination. She had first to turn a blind eye to loss. Knowing that it’s depths were unfathomable, made this a far more plausible undertaking. She had then but to believe that the shadows and ghosts of her past could direct her steps, without an unwieldy burden of sorrow upon her journey.

“I am not afraid.” Kara gazed at herself in the mirror. “I am not afraid.”

“Kara?” The thump of the front door and Alex’s voice, a warm tone on which to focus over the clutter of late evening sounds. Kara could hear the activity of her neighbors, home from work, living their lives parallel to her own. Yet she so often felt out of phase, a three dimensional representation in a two dimensional plane. She perceived all that echoed around her though bore no liminal connection to any of it, save one.

“Hey!” Kara poked her head out of the bathroom, catching Alex’s eye. “Did you bring …”

“Wine for me?” Alex held up a bottle in one hand, “I did.” Then gesturing over her shoulder at the kitchen suite, “Two burgers, four fries, and a half a gallon of oreo shake on the counter for you. I had a late lunch.”

“Perfect.” Kara grinned. Even with her heart beating out of sync and her hands trembling with the residual energy of her latest attempt at heroics, it didn’t feel false to grin. It never had felt false, not with Alex on the receiving end. Alex who read her mind with dexterity and would know a lie on Kara’s face boldly. Alex who instinctively learned how to read and know Kara in a language that handedly defied her foster sister’s stolen speech. It took a month to wrestle the silence, during which Kara had learned first to count and speak from puppets on a television screen much like a typical human child. Granted she’d done so at the age of twelve rather than three. Alex, at fourteen, had gamely endured that month of binge-watching Sesame Street and listening to Kids Bop albums when her peers were making their first forays into teen angst. A ready sacrifice that; and it had earned her unmitigated privy into Kara’s thoughts before they were ever expressed by word. Alex simply knew, in ways no one else ever could, Kara’s heart. 

“Mom would have a heart attack if she knew that your staple foods come in delivery containers and paper wrappers.” Alex muttered, eyeing Kara’s exit from the bathroom with slight suspicion. Kara took a deep breath and gazed pointedly back. Everything in her demeanor meant to convey, I’m okay. Alex, overprotective though she could be, would take the message to heart, for now. “She called to check in, by the way.” Eliza had been the very next best thing to Kara’s own mother. She was stern and loving. She offered encouragement without expectation. Kara had never doubted that she could eventually find some worthy pursuit to life on Earth, unburdened of her mission to protect her cousin. She believed it because Eliza had set to make it so with true conviction.

That first year on Earth, was a marathon to become a normal child. There were no counselors to explain the unfamiliar sounds around the Danvers home, thundering appliances that pummeled Kara’s sensitive ears, triggering flashbacks of escaping Krypton’s destruction. There were no pharmaceutical interventions to the despair that weighed so heavily. What frame of reference to employ this new life that screeched, clawing her senses? No filler for the void left behind, where once she’d held cherished family and friends, culture and aspirations for her future. Kara spent most every day yearning to block it all out, beset by the alien world around her. Movie nights curled under the kitchen table and sunny Saturday mornings that Alex was expected to mow the lawn became afternoons patiently coaxing Kara out of the bedroom closet. Perhaps it just seemed cute at first, like the puppy that runs from the vacuum cleaner. Eliza’s approach had been business as usual - baths, board games, and bedtimes. She believed normalcy could be indoctrinated. Never tell. Never reveal. Be as one of us. 

All children have nightmares. Eliza decided, with time Kara’s symptoms of shock would pass. More important, she would, as she must, adapt. Small for her age by human standards, Kara became quickly accustomed to the Dr. Eliza Danvers’ regimen of food as medicine and television as teacher. Assimilation was the goal and in a year, Kara had screened countless hours of human behavior and gained just enough weight to appear a healthy preteen girl. Eliza wrote her dissertation while teaching Kara her abc’s. But only Alex saw what was underneath. At night, Kara still awoke with regularity. But after time and ritual of Alex at her side, it was not nearly so raw an awakening. Eventually even tears dwindled and losing count of her nights marooned in the not quite so strange destination Earth, Kara did not deliriously ask for JeJu each night with terror in her eyes. She did not dream of fire and death, and the cold empty that followed. She simply snuggled into Alex’s open arms, and dutifully sunk back into a slumber thankfully absent of dreams.

By the time it was decided Kara was ready to be fully immersed, to venture out, attend school, she’d learned how easy it was to grin. She could smile through anger, through sadness, and most importantly through fear. She smiled wide and bright, and became supernormal. She became smart and funny, a fairly attractive girl who didn’t stand out enough to be praised or reviled. And even if she carried nightmares and a shoddily stitched seam across her heart, it only seemed that it let her light shine through all the more easily. 

“Yep, she called me too.” Kara snagged the wine bottle from Alex’s hand as she passed on her way to the kitchen. Holding the neck lightly, she pursed her lips just above the cork and drew in a sharp breath. Alex raised an eyebrow, as Kara nonchalantly tossed the cork on the kitchen counter and pulled a wine glass down from the cupboard.

“Nice trick.”

“I’m handy in any occasion.” Kara handed over a full glass of wine and set upon the containers holding her dinner. “She left a voicemail. She says we should come home for winter holidays. Festival of Light will coincide with Christmas this year.”

“You can make a proper offering to Rao.” Alex swallowed, sighing thankfully at the first sip. Every day deserved a bottle of wine like this one. “She’s worried you’ve lapsed in your faith since you moved here.” Kara smirked around a mouthful of burger.

“It’s not exactly easy to be the sole worshipper of a Red Giant on a planet full of beings who worship anthropomorphic deities.” Kara took a sip of milkshake, moaning in pleasure. “Oreo shake is my god now.”

“It’s the one thing from your past she insists you don’t compromise. Part of her desperately wants to believe that the way she’s raised you would meet approval were …” Alex hesitated to finish.

“Were my parents still alive?” Kara finished for her, acknowledging that Alex was navigating sensitive territory. “That would be a paradox, wouldn’t it?” Kara chewed, making a contemplative sound. “Yes my parents were devout, but how can I uphold the traditions of their faith here, now?” Kara shook her head. “Sometimes it hurts more trying to recreate …” Kara blinked, fighting tears. Deep breath in, out, wishing for that same tiresome pain to subside. It was like a phantom limb, her childhood on Krypton, there and not there. At home, before its destruction, it was customary every twenty-eight cycles to fast and meditate on the intersection of light and life. The Festival of Light was the phrase Kara had adapted in explaining these traditions to her foster family. She described the purpose as a communion with Rao, not simply The God of Krypton but the star that ignited and fed its vitality. Eliza Danvers had been keen that Kara kept the tradition. Kara might not speak Kryptonese with her foster family, but once every month growing up, together they’d dutifully light candles to Rao and sit in silent contemplation from sunset until sunrise to emulate the journey through darkness each Kryptonian takes to eventually reach Rao’s side.

It was nice in high school. She and Alex would get an early dismissal on the last Friday of the month. Eliza would be waiting in Jeremiah’s old Pick-up, bags of groceries in the truck bed. Kara and Alex would spend the remainder of the afternoon finishing up weekend chores and homework, while Eliza prepared a meal to rival Thanksgiving. After dinner, she’d shoo them off to baths and an early evening nap that would typically wrankle their teenage sensibilities. At dusk, just as the sun set, Eliza would rouse them wordlessly. Kara remembered the soft kiss Eliza would bestow on her forehead, nudging her into wakefulness. Speech foregone, they donned simple white cotton tunics, lovely and soft against the skin. Kara had carefully described the design for Eliza to fabricate by hand. 

Early on, the sun porch of the Danvers’ home had been adapted for the purpose of this worship. To most who visited, it looked a bit the Yoga studio. Eliza had allowed the misperception to defer unnecessary questions and taken up a personal Yoga practice to maintain the rouse. Broad bay windows, in place of walls on three sides, looked out upon the late evening. The wood floor satin smooth and nearly reflective in it’s rich cocoa stain, would be cool against barefeet as starlight and moon glow streamed in while together they reverently lit long tapered candles. There was a superior crimson candle to honor Rao, and seven subservient candles, one each for his godlings to which had been instated the guilds of Krypton. The house of El, first house of Krypton, oversaw the guild closest to that which was considered the realm of Rao’s influence, that of the scientific arts. Kara’s parents, both highly respected in their fields as scientists, had been among the guild elders. 

In that time, there had been massive community temples, of sublime engineering, more art than architecture dedicated to the seven guilds and steered by the seven first houses of Krypton. Despite the beauty of these structures, as a child, Kara had much preferred worshiping at home with her Mother and Father. But her parents had been traditionalists and were often called upon to lead worship at the guild hall. The altar Eliza and Alex had helped Kara create reminded a bit too much of those few special times she was allowed the novelty of worshipping with just her family at home. Much like on Krypton, seated in a circle with Eliza and Alex in that peaceful space, the hours would wind away. In college, it was more burdensome for Kara to find her way home once a month. Even if the university was only two hours away. Alex had always been far more amenable to making the trip. But then, Alex had always been ceaselessly willing to make any necessary sacrifice for Kara’s wellbeing. Now that Kara had settled in National City and home remained but a few hours away, the inclination to make the trip once a month was steadily less and less appealing. 

“Besides, it’s not the same.” Kara sighed, toying with a french fry. “Kryptonians did not bear a similar view of religion as humans do. Back home we practiced religion in the same way humans study Science. Worship was more than just the meditation. It was an incarnation of our most revelatory discourse on this universe, our place in it, and the depth of our comprehension of its design. To your people, yes, this too is faith.” Kara acknowledged, “But the tenants of Kryptonian faith were the same means by which we powered our cities and traveled beyond our home into the far reaches of space. Worship was the means by which we melded theory and practice, innovated and fostered new discovery. It was an equally practical and spiritual exercise.” Kara gazed pointedly at her sister. “How can I be devout when I have no means of adapting or furthering the knowledge of my people? Even with the holographic repository from my craft, this is for all intents and purposes lost to me.” Kara shook her head, dismissing the very idea of worshipping Rao while stranded on Earth. “I am without faith by virtue of my expulsion …” She paused, swallowed and continued, “By virtue of the destruction of my home. All faith was destroyed with it.”

“But what better place for you to have been planted to thrive than amongst a family of scientists? Thank Rao for that.” Alex crooked an ironic smile, sipping again at her wine. “Mom feels strongly on this, Kara, and understandably so. What else, but your safety, could she strive to preserve in hopes that you could live on as testament to a world that once was. Was that not the truth behind your parents efforts to save you?” Alex allowed the conversation a moment to settle. It was difficult treading so fine a path, knowing it to be intrinsically linked to Kara’s deepest internal struggles. The loneliness and loss that would always be there could be found at the heart of such discourse. “It does no harm to keep the tradition Kara. I’d argue it’s probably of greater benefit right now than you are willing to say aloud.” Kara rolled her eyes, not terribly impressed by Alex’s omnipresent mind-reading capability. Times like these it lost its novelty.

“I can sit in silence all night and meditate just as effectively here.” Kara grumbled. Alex made an unimpressed sound in the back of her throat. Even quarrelsome, Kara could not quite tame the skyward tilt of her lips.

“It’s not just that, Kara. It’s family time.” Alex reached across the table to snag a fry, “ And whatever you’re struggling with right now, this anger that’s colonized your thoughts and actions lately, needs a healthy catharsis. You need a way to come to terms.” Alex tilted her head to look into Kara’s eyes and deconstruct any shielding that could separate them from the heart of things. “Has our family worship ever failed to offer clarity when you truly needed it?”

“No.” Kara shrugged, shoulders dipping low in concession. “It’s always been the right thing when this.” Kara gestured broadly, with a wave of her hand, “all felt too … alien.”

“So Christmas.” Alex chewed, nodding finality. 

“Christmas.” Kara conceded. “What about the DEO?”

“I’ll figure out the time off.” Alex wandered over to the sitting area and collapsed onto one of the couches, careful not to spill her wine. “Besides, easy enough for you to be on call. You can make that flight in like ten minutes.”

“True.” Kara nibbled a bit more, appetite momentarily deterred by thoughts of the upcoming holidays. “Stay over tonight?” Kara bit her lip, hopeful. “We can watch a movie.”’

“And you can tell me what’s on your mind.” Alex reached for the remote, turning the television on to flip randomly. It was a poor attempt at nonchalance. Kara allowed her the guise.

“Or we could just watch a movie.” Kara returned her attention to her dinner, working hard to further sublimate the anxious feelings that had threatened before Alex’s arrival. It wasn’t a discussion she was ready to have, not when the fear continued to crest. It might crash and she might flail in the deluge, but she could not allow herself to be towed under - not now, not yet.

 

Disappeared

 

“What if she’s going to face Non?” Winn asked, mulling over the possibility.

“I vote we let her.” James muttered.

“So we’re voting now about letting Kara behave recklessly?” Winn all but rolled his eyes at James. 

“There is no vote.” Alex cut in before James could fall into the habit of squabbling with a man who wasn’t actually in competition for Kara’s affections. “She thinks Supergirl is a commodity. She thinks we’ve all taken a piece of her with our demands and expectations.” She levelled a hard look at Winn who had the good grace to look away in embarrassment. “I admit I pushed her. I insisted that she prioritize what our world needed as far more important than anything she could conceive of wanting for herself.”

“Kara wanted the cape and that S on her chest. Don’t think for a minute she didn’t.” James dismissed with a wave of his hand. They’d been going around like this, back and forth, sharing out guilt and responsibility. Kara was missing, had been for over a week, and the one obvious thing she’d left behind was Supergirl. 

“It’s not an S.” Alex murmured, pacing away from their huddle in Kara’s living room to look out the windows. National City had thankfully been quiet in Kara’s absence. Of Course, J’onn Jonzz was picking up a bit of the slack. Nothing had blown up and no one had been kidnapped in days, so it did feel like a well-timed lull in criminal activity. And while they puzzled over the tech recovered from their final encounter with General Astra, the clock ticked. Any moment Non could unleash his next attack.

“What if she doesn’t come back?” Winn asked, the fretful note in his voice was grating on Alex’s nerves. Moreso because it struck too close to the identical but unvoiced worry in her own head. What if Kara had truly run away? Alex struggled to swallow down her own fears and bring the conversation back to practical matters of significance.

“She’ll come back.” Alex assured both men. Sitting down on one of the couches, eyes grown distant, Alex spoke. Winn and James, entranced despite their palpable unease, listened. “It is a common misconception that when my sister arrived on this planet, she had all of the powers she possesses today.” Alex shook her head. “In fact, Kara’s heightened senses were an adaptation of sorts that developed over the course of her first year of exposure to our solar radiation. Resultingly, she started having what one might categorize as an allergic reaction to sensory stimuli during that first year here.” Alex regarded her rapt audience. 

“An allergic reaction?” Winn’s forehead wrinkled in admittedly adorable confusion. “How is that possible?”

“It was as though the entire world, the environment was attacking her. Everything was too harsh, the scents, the sounds.” Alex waved her hands as though to encompass everything around them. “She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. She hid in my closet, curled up in the dark, and would not come out.” Alex shook her head caught in the memory. “Three days like that and my Dad tried to force her, pulled her out of the closet.” Alex swallowed a haunted look tailoring her expression. “She screamed like she was on fire, tore chunks out of the hardwood floor with her fingernails trying to get away from him. Gave my Dad a couple of bruises, but she … she hurt herself more.” 

Alex’s brow wrinkled, remembering the pathetic sight of Kara on the gouged floor. “Something broke inside of her.” Alex whispered thickly. “You have to understand, Kara adapted so quickly after the shock of the first month or so here, she was speaking full sentences in English and eating burgers like she’d been born to it. Fucking burgers! Kryptonians are staunch vegetarians.” Alex shook her head remembering that first sight of Kara at the drive-in burger place in Midvale, face bathed in ketchup and mustard. Alex had been mortified as her parents laughed and took family pictures oblivious to the snickering of a table full of her classmates. It was the last time Alex considered popularity a priority. Her Mom had given her an hour long lecture later that night for being obnoxious. Kara hadn’t smiled again for days. Alex had spent every day of her life since that failure renewing an internal vow to be better.  
“My parents were starting to believe that she could adapt, that she could have a normal life. And then ...” Alex shook her head, “It was like being side-swiped by a semi. One day she was laughing and playing and the next she was shattered, utterly withdrawn.” Alex drifted a moment, lost in the overwhelming tide of that terrible time. She rubbed her hands together, then crossed her arms as if she could hold in the memory, hold in the echo of the despair that had settled over the Danvers home. “My Mom thought maybe a virus, something that had worked its way past her immunity. But there was no way to know and no way to intervene unless they took her to the DEO. And my mother would never ...”

“I don’t understand.” James’s brow furrowed, “How could she suddenly get sick? Superman doesn’t get sick.”

“Actually, he did. When he was very young. Our world can be harsh to Kryptonian perception.” Alex explained. “So maybe bright lights make you or I wince. It’s not the same for them. It’s like being poisoned by the senses. Kal-El had to learn how to dial back the sensitivity to what he could feel. He had years to learn how. Kara didn’t.” Winn, his mouth a wide O, nodded his understanding.

“The sudden exposure to our sun with her senses already developed under Kryptonian radiation, it would have been like living at the center of a bomb.“ He extrapolated in dismay. “That’s awful.” Alex nodded, her agreement at his description. It had been worse than awful.

“My mom contacted Kal-El and he explained what he believed was happening. He explained there was nothing to be done. Either Kara would adapt as he had or she would perish.”

“Obviously we know the outcome.” James remarked. “But how exactly?”

“Will.” Alex replied simply. “My parents couldn’t reach her.” Alex murmured. “She was far away from us, locked so deep she’d shut the world down. On the outside,” Alex looked over Winn and James’s shoulders to a photo from their childhood. It had been taken right before Kara had grown ill. She had laughed, posing for the camera, finally understanding the point of the exercise after long explanations from Alex. “She was just still, and sick, and not coming back to us.” Kara had wasted, hidden from the world. With little to be done, Alex recognized from the guarded expressions frozen on the faces of her parents that there was no reassurance to be found. Alex took a deep breath, “My parents were preparing for the eventuality that she would die and all I could think was that her death was my fault.”

“But Alex …” James interrupted, to which Alex only shook her head.

“She was my responsibility. She was.” Alex gazed beseechingly at both Winn and James, trying to make them understand. “She always has been mine. Kara says her parents sent her to protect Kal-El, and surely had she not been deterred she would have fulfilled that responsibility honorably. But they couldn’t have known.” Alex sighed deeply, thinking of the choice Alura In-Ze and Zor-El had made. Had it been selfish? Had it been cruel to send Kara away? Could Alex do it herself, knowing no other way to save the life of someone she dearly loved? “Do you know Rao?”

“Who?” Winn asked, confused as much by the sudden change in tack as the very subject of the question.

“That’s their deity, right?” James asked, to which Alex nodded.

“The giver of light and life, a god perhaps in simple terms but more accurately a force in the universe like gravity or chaos.” Alex explained, “Kal-El didn’t need protection and you must consider the precision of interference necessary to alter the intended course and deter Kara from arriving simultaneously with her cousin. By Kryptonian understanding, Rao alone could wield such power. But foresight … I don’t know if it is accurate to suggest some specific design. I have no explanation for it, only that it was as though she was sent here for ME to protect.” Alex emphasized, leaving no room for interpretation. James blinked, unsure how to respond. 

“You’re not saying ...” Winn’s mouth worked in disbelief, looking for a polite way in which to call his best friend’s sister crazy. Winn caught James eye with a questioning tilt of his head to which James could only shrug. It was farfetched at best. But Kal-El, edified by the teachings of his holographic father, had spoken of this Rao with equivalent certainty, James could attest. Lex Luther’s well-known obsession over the Book of Rao could only serve as confirmation. It was not just some dusty artifact, the equivalent of the Gutenberg Bible here on Earth. Kal-El had treated Luther’s obsession with wary consideration. The Book of Rao had been revered on Krypton to be a source of great technological power and knowledge of the universe way beyond human comprehension. It was a tool that could build or alternatively destroy human civilization had Lex Luther ever succeeded in his quest to possess it.

“She is the last daughter of the House of El, groomed to be a hero. That’s what they were born, bred to do back on Krypton from the inception of their House in the time of Rao.” Alex sighed. “But when she arrived on Earth, guys, she was small and scared and alone. It seemed as though this universe had planted a promise in the course of my life, bound inexplicably to hers. I could not fail.” 

“Alex what you are saying is … you’re a scientist, how can you believe this?” Winn interjected.

“This is their Science. I believe because I’ve seen what Kara is capable of accomplishing. I grew up listening to her tell stories of Krypton. What we call belief, is simply method, theory in practice for them.”

“So what happened?” James asked, gesturing for Winn to stay his comments for another time. They both needed to hear whatever Alex intended in the sharing of this part of Kara’s history.

“I wouldn’t go to school.” Alex’s lips twisted wryly. “I told my parents, not until Kara was by my side. I couldn’t leave hers.” 

“You didn’t?” James’s earnest desire to hear her was novel to Alex. Alex marveled at James’s compassion. Was it this that the Man of Steel so admired in his human friend? 

“I did.” Alex thought back to those dark days when Kara’s life had stuttered to a near stop. She had done as she’d grown accustomed with Kara. That night, while her parents’ hushed discussions of what to do drew long into the late hours, Alex had sought out Kara’s side. But for the unblinking eyes that stared off into the distance, the small form curled on Kara’s bed might only be sleeping. Careful not to jostle the frail form, Alex nestled close, gazing into those blank eyes that had only so recently held warmth, and curiosity. Kara’s small hand in hers, Alex placed those cool fingertips against her own chest. Holding Kara’s hand there, firm against the rhythmic pulse of life steadily beating, Alex had whispered intently, confessing the simplest and most important truth, the only truth Kara needed to survive.

“I told her that my heart was strong enough to beat for both of us and as long as she believed that to be true, she’d be safe from harm.” Alex relayed softly. “I told her she couldn’t give up, that my heartbeat, ours, was all she needed to find her way back to me from wherever she felt herself lost or alone.” 

“You’ve done nothing short of keep that promise from what I’ve seen.” James offered a lopsided smile. “You shield Kara from every threat that exists out there.”

“James is right.” Winn agreed, wholeheartedly. “She’s had no stauncher protector I’ve seen.”

“I can’t protect her from herself. Or me” Alex muttered, closing her eyes a moment. “General Astra …” James nodded in sudden understanding.

“You and Clark are Kara’s family. And she has friends …” James paused pointedly, unwilling to state the obvious. “You’ve nothing to worry about.” Alex regarded James solemnly, the tension obvious in her posture.

“Don’t I?” Alex rose from her seat. “I’m going to go look for her.”

“We’ll come with you.” Winn jumped to his feet, ready to head out the door only to stop as Alex shook her head.

“No. You should go home.” The looks on James and Winn’s faces didn’t seem to suggest any likelihood of them agreeing to that. “Or wait for her here.”

“Alex.” She halted at the door to the apartment, offering an arched brow of curiosity. James stood, fingertips brushing the pockets of his jeans, as close to nervousness as she imagined she’d ever seen him. “I’ve spent years loyal to Clark. And in that time, I had the benefit of hearing about his cousin. He voiced concern that he’d done the right thing to ensure she had a childhood as safe and loving, as happy as his had been. His visits to her over the years, he’d return with those concerns allayed. Do you know why?” Alex shook her head, easily drawn into this latest apocrypha in the myth of Superman. “He spoke of you and Eliza with a depth of trust and confidence that belied any doubt he could possibly muster. It was as though the very next best thing to growing up on a world that had been destroyed, in a home that had been Kara’s own from birth, was growing up with you.” Alex blinked, astutely aware of the threat of tears burning beneath her lashes.

“Clark disappeared for years coming to terms with his powers and he had nothing like Kara’s experience of loss.” Alex insisted. The very real possibility was that right now, Kara was lost to them.

“Then you’ve already provided the singular most reliable way for her to find her way home.” James, stern in his resolve, nodded, “You said yourself, it’s strong enough to aid her no matter when, where or how she might be lost.” 

“You weren’t there.” Alex murmured. “You didn’t see how she was. She’s different now.” Alex struggled for a moment, willing herself not to give in to the tears. “I made her different.” She sucked in a deep breath, wiping fiercely at a single rebellious tear and slipped through the front door with little else in the way of acknowledgment than the slight inclination of her head. 

“We should go with her.” Winn insisted, arms folded over his chest. “I don’t believe it is truly in Kara to seek revenge, but if Non finds her out there, he’ll kill her.” Winn swallowed, distraught at the very real prospect, “We cannot allow that to happen.”

Attention drawn away from Alex’s swift departure and Winn’s mounting distress, James pulled his phone out of his pocket to type out a quick text.   
Worried. Where are you?  
He expected it would go unanswered, as had the many other phone calls and texts in the last week since Astra’s death. Kara had come home from the DEO and played the part well. She’d laughed at jokes and beamed so brightly as though untouched by the tragedy of her life. She called them her family, him and Alex and Winn. And the next day, she hadn’t shown up to CatCo. James was convinced right then it was no longer business as usual. She hadn’t been home when he’d knocked anxiously on her door. There was no way to minimize the measured austerity of Kara’s sudden absence, the time over which the faces of friends and family had grown haunted and slack with worry or certainty that Kara’s miraculous recovery had been little more than an act. 

 

One week prior

Aunt Astra is dead, Kal-El.  
I'm sorry Kara.

Impossible to explain to anyone and for so long Kara had misunderstood. Kal-El was as human as her adoptive sister. How could they know that the pain of Astra's loss was no less profound than the loss of her mother? Twins a rarity on Krypton and the bond between them sacred, Astra had not just been a Matron of the House of El, she'd been a co-parent to Kara. It had been as much Astra's responsibility as it had been Alura's in raising Kara to be an heiress to the House leadership. One day, having been raised specifically to do so, Kara would have donned the blue tunic of an elder, just as her mother had worn.

Earth's traditions, its families and their patrilineal customs were so alien to those on Krypton. Kal-El, well-meaning though he was, could not comprehend what had been lost. He believed the instruction he received from his voluminous crystalline library was a sufficient guide to his Kryptonian heritage. It was woefully inadequate or else he would know that his wooden apology was insignificant, piteous, and dreadful. Death without an offering to Rao to ensure life energy found it's use in a chaotic universe, was an abhorrent oversight at best. Kara imagined the energies of so many, the extinguished lines of Krypton, dispersed without meaning or purpose and forgotten, her family among them. They’d traverse the darkness alone, searching for Rao for eternity. It sickened her. She imagined them all, drifting as she once had, aimless in the Phantom Zone. The darkness there so devout as to suck the very light from one's soul. This was the nightmare from which Kara most often awoke.

The house in Midvale was still. Kara listened to the waves breaking below the bluff as she flew in for a gentle landing in the front yard. Eliza was away presenting a paper at some conference or other. Kara couldn't recall the house ever feeling quite so empty. She let herself in, wandered through the kitchen, the dining room, and upstairs. She paused in the hallway outside her childhood bedroom, the room she'd shared with Alex. She knew when she opened the door, it would feel untouched, like the rest of the house. As though those memories could be preserved forever in time between these walls. Shedding her Supergirl costume, Kara dug through the hallway closet, extra linens for the girls beds and some seasonal clothing. She found the tunics Eliza had sewn by hand, so like those Kara's mother and aunt had worn. They were loving folded and carefully placed on a shelf. When was the last time they'd been worn? Christmas a year ago? Before that? Clutching one against her chest, she padded barefoot back down the stairs to the sun room. The sun room, how aptly named given the purpose it had served these last thirteen years.  
Kara wanted nothing more than to light the candles and sit in meditation among a circle of women elders who shared knowledge of Astra's life. She wanted to grieve. She stood on the threshold, eyed the altar with uncertainty, the fine material of her tunic bunched and creasing under the warm pressure of her hands.

"I thought you might come here." Kara awoke, as from a dream full of tumultuous shadows. She'd come to sit before the altar, but had not lit the candles or donned the tunic that sat forgotten in her lap. She pulled her knees against her chest, realizing in that moment the oddity she must present sitting naked in darkness.

Alex seemed unconcerned, neither by Kara's state of undress nor the candle wicks standing unlit. She'd removed her coat and shoes, perhaps in the front hall, the silence unperturbed by her arrival. She came to sit by Kara, drawing an arm around broad shoulders. She could not remember exactly when in their youth Kara had hit the growth spurt that outpaced Alex in height and musculature. It was almost awkward now, making the attempt at being the comforting older sister. Nevertheless, she pulled Kara close as though to ward a draft to which Kryptonian skin was undoubtedly impervious.

“She was a warrior. She fought with honor and died …”

“At your hand.” Kara interrupted. Alex startled at the sound of Kara’s voice, void of any emotion. “Do you think I do not yet recognize the presence of Kryptonite after so many lovely introductions?” Kara thought back to the torture her Aunt had endured while in DEO custody. She could not look upon her sister. Could not see the confirmation of what she already knew in spite of J’onn Jonzz’s well-meaning deception. “It hung on you like a foul odor.”

“Kara …” Alex murmured, the warm grip she’d held on her sister’s shoulder loose and unsure. How to explain? She’d given into fear and embraced yet another lie in the vain hopes of protecting Kara from this very difficult truth. It was the worst kind of lie. “Please try to understand.”

“I dare you..” Kara whispered. “Make me understand.”

Alex left it unspoken as though it somehow tidied a reality far too brutal to imagine. Alex had visited upon Kara the nightmare, made it real, made her more alone in this alien world surrounded by strangers. Astra was the last connection to a home that could not be forgotten, no matter how hard Kara wished it. The remembering was its own torture. She envied Kal-El his ignorance. And now one more loss to bear.

“This time,” Kara paused though unconfused, though certainly sure, pained. “I can’t just pretend and smile.” Alex swallowed, eyeing Kara’s stony profile. 

“I’m no hero.” Kara shrugged away from Alex. “I can’t continue to live costumed in a lie and hope that the tide will change.”

“You alone can stand against it!” Alex argued, grasping anxiously onto Kara’s hand. Never had she heard such despair from Kara, such resignation.

“While it consumes everyone around me?” Kara finally turned tired eyes on Alex. Alex, who had a glimpse of the home Kara lost. Alex so unique among all of humankind to share this and yet unable to comprehend. “I will not.”

“Then who Kara?”

“I wasn’t sent here on a mission. The promise I was meant to fulfill was derelict at its inception.” Kara shook her head. “I owe nothing in debt to this world that has swallowed the last pieces of who I was whole and spat out Supergirl, corporate trademark.”

“You were born …” Alex began but Kara shook her head, anger rising to heat pale cheeks.

“I was born into the greatest house on Krypton to lead like my mother, not to be the unwitting savior of YOUR world.” Kara hissed, pulling her hands from Alex’s misguided comfort. “You …” Kara swallowed, then bit down. Anger pressed the words through teeth clenched in disgust, “killed one of the women who raised me to understand the responsibility of my birthright. Blood bonds us all. She taught me that. You think your words honor her? Honor enough, that she was a warrior who died in a meaningless battle on a world so far from her home, or what is now only the memory of it - how could that possibly suffice?” Kara wept, feeling the heavy pall of grief, unbearable, endless. “You did not know her.” Kara shredded the tunic, the sound of the fabric tearing filled the room over her own sobbing, the harshness of her breath against the silence. She could not stand it. It all felt so incredibly futile. Kara screamed, as though the meaning of her words torn from her throat themselves a torture. “She won’t even be mourned!” 

Alex reached out eager to comfort but was shrugged away. It hurt. Kara had never denied comfort offered at Alex’s hand. It had long been succor between them. On her knees, Kara leaned forward, clutching the tattered remnants to her stomach. Tears dripped from between her closed eyelids to the hardwood, where they shone in moonlight cast from the windows. Kara had learned too well the lesson of fitting in on Earth. Choke down all the tears. Eat pot stickers and ice cream. Smile wide. Convince them all that in a blink you can forget everything that mattered. And, most importantly, put on the suit.

“I’ll never wear it again Alex. Never.” Kara whispered.


	3. Please Read The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For author's notes and disclaimer, please refer to chapter one.

On a Ledge

Kara gazed up at the night time sky. The neon line of buildings sketched against the darkness so different in San Francisco than those that shined so brightly in National City. She remembered her first trip to San Francisco. Eliza was giving a series of Neuroscience lectures at UC San Francisco. It was a week away, and it had taken a great deal of pleading to convince her to take them out of school to join her. Alex had insisted it would be an educational trip. They could visit colleges and museums, both of which were still a key part in Kara’s continued adaptation to life on Earth. Eliza had caved on the condition that they brought their homework with them. Kara and Alex had spent a week exploring San Francisco and Berkeley. They’d even managed a visit to Stanford. 

Eliza had lectures most mornings and some afternoons, but early evenings she took her girls on adventures. They saw Wicked at the Orpheum ate ice cream cones at Ghirardelli Square. Kara’s undisputable favorite had been the afternoon spent at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It had resurrected a part of the joy of her life on Krypton that she’d thought forever lost.

“Eliza.” She’d asked clutching her adoptive mother’s hand anxiously.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Eliza murmured, eyes drawn away from the piece before them to settle fondly on Kara.

“Do I have to be a hero like Kal-El?” Kara asked, still intent on the painting, heart rocketing in her chest with emotion she couldn’t quite manage to express. Astonished by the sudden tears streaming down Kara’s face, Eliza reached to brush them away. She knelt, placing her hands on Kara’s hips, and turned the girl until bright blue eyes at last found her own.

“Why my darling? What would you like to be?”

“An artist, could I be an artist?” Kara asked. 

“Yes, that would be marvelous.” Eliza smiled, she placed her hands on Kara’s round cheeks. But Kara frowned, looking away as though ashamed by her desire..

“But if I’m special like Kal-El, shouldn’t I be a hero like he is?” 

Placing a finger under Kara’s chin, Eliza waited until Kara’s eyes left the floor to say,” You can be anything, anything at all, so long as you are useful and you are kind.” Kara had smiled her relief, and hugged Eliza close until Alex appeared insisting she was starving as it was well past lunch time.

Hand-delivered by the Man of Steel, Kara Zor-El first arrived at the Danvers home an ashen spirit. She was stony, did not speak, did not weep. She watched, wide-eyed, her cousin’s unceremonious departure. Seemingly unperturbed as he relinquished the responsibility of her to strangers, to aliens, to these humans, she did not gaze upon the sky. She bore no anxiety for his return as surely she understood, perhaps better than her new foster family. She was alone, even sequestered and safe on Earth from the destruction of all she’d known. 

Alex wondered as she observed Kara from across the table at that first awkward meal. Her parents made little attempt at conversation. Their observation increasingly conspicuous as the food on Kara’s plate remained untouched and the blankness of her expression unchanged. It seemed there was a buffer around this alien girl, unbreachable by the gentle prodding to speak, to eat. Alex’s eyes widened in disbelief when even a hefty helping of Eliza Danver’s self-proclaimed famous pie remained untouched. Kara sat, hands gripped in her lap, chin driving into her chest as though she could shrink and disappear

Alex had eaten contemplatively and marveled. No human being had ever been so alone as this child that had come into her parents’ care from nearly 30 light years away. LHS 2520 was the star around which the home of Earth’s resident aliens had revolved prior to its calamitous end. Jeremiah Danvers, long a fan and friend of Superman, had once shown Alex its distant winking on a crisp, cool night. “There,” he’d said after adjusting his telescope just so. And she looked but a moment before turning away, hiccuping tears. Alex had fled inside to her mother’s study, drawing Eliza Danvers away from school work with the distraction of unchecked sobs. Alex had buried herself in her mother’s arms wishing desperately that a hug alone could console the sorrow she’d felt gazing upon the cold light of a dying star. 

When Eliza Danvers had asked her then eight year old daughter what had troubled her so, Alex had been unable to truly speak it aloud. How terrible, to gaze upon the light that once fed a thriving world, a world that could only serve as fleeting memory to a solitary man. How devastatingly lonely. Wrenching herself from the past, Alex shuddered, momentarily drawing Kara’s attention. Caught out, Alex had offered a lopsided smile and tried not to feel rebuffed when Kara’s eyes slipped away, like water slipping from a treated surface. Alex had pushed her own pie around the plate with disinterest as she considered what it must mean to be haunted by a dead world.

“Perhaps, she’s tired.” Jeremiah Danvers had allowed and Alex had sprang at the opportunity to see to her chores with unprecedented eagerness, anything to draw that abysmal dinner to a close.

“I’ll draw you a bath sweetie.” Eliza Danvers had waited a moment wondering if she could expect a response, but Kara did not so much as offer a glance of curiosity or comprehension. Alex’s parents disappeared upstairs, followed soon after by the sound of running water along with a bit of hammering and muffled cursing as her Dad struggled to finish erecting new furniture springing from boxes in a hastily cleared side of Alex’s bedroom. Loading the dishwasher, Alex hummed softly and snuck glances over her shoulder to where Kara remained seated and unmoving at the vacated table.

The first word Alex learned in Kryptonese was JeJu. Kara shouted it that night and many to follow, terrorized in sleep. Firmly warned by her father never to wake Kara from nightmares, “She does not yet know her own strength, Alex. It’s not safe.” Jeremiah Danvers had never been quite so stern and Alex had offered the promise obediently, not knowing how deeply affecting the nights listening to Kara finally break her silence while imbedded in such wretched dreams.

Eliza Danvers would slip into the darkened room, drawn by Kara’s cries. She’d come with a hush, hush, hushing and disentangle sheets. She’d pull Kara up into her arms as though wresting her from the terror of those dreams. Arms wrapped around Eliza’s neck, Kara would slip back into her silence, tears drying on her cheeks. From bed, Alex would watch Eliza pace and rock and hush until the dark room became dim with the first light of day. Kara staring blankly, would not return to sleep. 

For weeks, it would be thus. And even for some years after Kara would awake at night, cheeks damp and words Alex could not decipher dying on her lips. But the last time Eliza Danvers spent the night comforting Kara was the night that Alex learned her very first word of Kryptonese. Sitting on her bed, Alex had peered through the shadows as Kara’s uneasy rest became more and more troubled. With some certainty, Alex had known that soon Kara would call out, thrashing to escape the horror that populated her dreams. 

There had been no respite for any in the Danvers home since Kara’s arrival and weary of the nightly disturbance Alex broke her promise. She climbed out of bed, mimicking her mother’s careful, steady movements, tip-toeing her way to Kara’s side. She knelt on the edge and placed a gentle hand just above the frantic beating of Kara’s heart. Alex remembered when she was six and had been terrorized nightly by a dream inspired by a particularly depraved clown costume seen at a Halloween party. She’d awake to her mother smoothing soft circles against her chest, soothing away the dreadful images that chased her into wakefulness. So too did Kara awake, eased from troubled sleep. She blinked, wide-eyed at Alex, recognition slowly crossing her features.

Kara had whimpered, face transforming from confusion to sorrow in a raw emotional interplay that made Alex’s eyes prick and burn with sympathetic tears. Kara turned away, murmuring over and again, “JeJu.” And it was then Alex knew. She slipped under the covers, and pulled Kara into her arms, hush, hush, hushing. 

“I know.” Alex sniffled, “I’m sorry. I wish your Mom was here too.” Kara had gone still and quiet, listening to the soft intonations that she did not yet recognize. But for the first time, as she pillowed her head on Alex’s shoulder, there was something nearing familiarity in the sentiment conveyed by what she heard. “I’m here. And I promise,” With the edge of her thumb, Alex tentatively brushed at Kara’s damp cheeks. She felt the petal-soft sigh of eyelashes flutter against her skin. “I always will be.”

The summer of Alex’s fifteenth birthday, Jeremiah Danvers died. There was no prolonged goodbye at a hospital bedside. There was simply a phone call and her mother’s tears. Eliza Danvers had just finished the successful defense of her doctoral thesis and the plan had been for an extended family vacation. They would show Kara her new home, a whirlwind world tour across the States , culminating with a hop to Europe and Asia. When they received the news of Jeremiah’s death, everything changed. Eliza refocused herself on work. She had two girls to raise by herself and she couldn’t be delayed by such impossibilities as grief. Running a research project an hour and a half away in Irvine, left the Danvers girls to their own devices most days that summer. The startling beauty of rural Napa offered just enough distraction to fill those unsupervised hours with adventure. So Alex followed her mother’s example, wasting little time on grief when she had a far greater responsibility to Kara’s assimilation into a halfway convincing human teenager. 

Danvers farm was the next best thing to summer camp. Alex ever patient, ever attentive, taught Kara to ride a bike. When the afternoons grew too hot to bear, Alex treked across the fields with Kara in tow to the pond on the far side of the property for swimming lessons. Kara took to the water with unexpected aptitude, far more so than she had to riding a bike. Under the wan twilight of dusk, they caught fireflies though Kara insistently petitioned for their immediate release. Alex, able to deny Kara nothing, would concede and they’d gaze after the soft flicker and flash of the insects chasing freedom. When the growing shadows in the front yard drew long, much like Jeremiah Danvers had once shown her, Alex introduced Kara to the night time constellations of her new home. Sunday afternoons the Danvers sisters would make the long walk into town for hamburgers and ice cream cones and Kara’s favorite pick mix candies from the local market. Kara would beam widely underneath the sun, melted chocolate ringing her wide smile. Alex would grin indulgent, and wipe dutifully at the mess with the hem of her own tee-shirt. It was easiest then to forget and just be kids. With time, it became less and less of a struggle not to cry. Jeremiah Danvers would have expected no less than Alex’s undiminished loyalty to Kara and Alex would do no less than that which would have made her father proud.

Eliza, unfailingly home by dinner, would nod and hum at Kara’s excited descriptions of Earth’s strange marvels while Alex smiled and laughed at Kara’s humor and excitement. Shooed off to baths and bed, Eliza would kiss them goodnight and shuffle tiredly off to her study to continue her tireless work. She could be both, Eliza reasoned, brilliant, accomplished in her field as a scientist and as a mother who could set aside her grief and still completely love her kids. Most nights Alex and Kara would listen for the sound of Eliza’s dwindling footsteps only to climb out of their window and cuddle together on the roof under the cool breeze that whispered after such long hot days. Kara would curl into Alex’s side, hand tucked under Alex’s top to rest over her heart. It seemed Kara could fall into an easy dreamless sleep no other way. Alex grew so accustomed to Kara’s closeness that she thought nothing of it until Eliza found them asleep. Some idle night, having grown restless of the work and needing to check on her sleeping girls, Eliza had wandered up from her study and discovered them sound on the roof. Alex had woken to the soft worrying of fingertips brushing her brow. Eliza had smiled down at her daughter with equal fondness and sadness. The grief of her father’s absence still so keenly felt but at that moment tempered by the comfort of their unlikely little family unit. Eliza reached out to place her hand on the crown of Kara’s head. Kara did not stir, so deep in sleep. It seemed a miracle after such struggle to see her at ease. 

“I know I often remind you how important it is for you to watch over her.” Eliza had whispered with care. “Should you ever wonder, know it is because only you can understand, there are ways that I cannot provide for her; and in all those ways that I cannot love her quite enough, you can.” Alex nodded as though she found solace in her mother’s words. But in truth, she did not. She only knew her sense of duty, her sense of responsibility to Kara, and what she could only hinge on love for a younger sibling she sought to protect. It took years of her own growth to fully comprehend what her mother had meant. Eliza could nurture and guide Kara as a mother should. She could nurse as needed and reassure, and offer endless comfort, navigating the countless complexities of rearing this child. What Eliza could not do for Kara was inextricably linked to the part of Kara’s heart that had been broken by loss. Alex alone had the capability to heal that wounded instinct because Alex was the only one Kara had ventured to trust enough to do so.

 

Charmed, I’m Sure

 

Declining Kara’s offer for a “lift”, Paige had winked, grabbed her hand and in a shower of what looked like firefly sparkles they’d disappeared from the roof of that old building downtown to arrive in the foyer of an historic manor house. Kara felt like she’d just jumped through a sprinkler on a hot summer day, cool prickling her skin. She had to admit, it was quite the nifty trick.

“Welcome to Halliwell manor.” Paige gestured with a flourish. “I think my sisters should be ….”

“Paige? Is that you?” A voice drifted into the foyer. Kara scanned past the wall with her X-Ray vision. She could see two young women seated on a couch in what appeared to be a sitting room.

“I thought we were, um …” Kara hesitated, unsure whether she was up for being the company. “Getting drinks?”

“I am a wizard with cocktails.” Paige winked. She snagged Kara’s hand in hers. “Come on.” 

Paige made introductions, inviting Kara to take a seat that felt very much like facing a board of review. Kara marvelled at the striking resemblance as they stepped into the sitting area. The Halliwell sisters, all dark hair and hypnotic chestnut eyes, the three of them. Prue the eldest, gaze narrowed in thinly veiled distrust, peered at Kara from across the coffee table and said nothing. Phoebe, pulled Paige down beside them on the couch for a quick hug before turning her attention on their unexpected guest.

“Kara is it?” Phoebe smiled welcome.

“Yes.” Kara tried to manage an open expression of politeness in spite of suddenly feeling quite trapped. “Thank you for having me in your home.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Phoebe offered, receiving a tempered look from Prue for the effort.

“How do you know our Paige?” Phoebe asked.

“Oh we just met.” Paige piped up, settling further into the couch between her sisters.

“No kidding.” Prue muttered with a put upon sigh.

“Paige is so good at making new friends.” Phoebe interjected before Prue could get a full head of steam.

“So …” Kara glanced around the cozy sitting room, from the couch on which the sisters lounged to the fireplace adorned by framed photos. “You have another sister?” Kara nodded at a photo in which Prue and Phoebe posed with another woman. 

“Yeah, Piper she uh …” Phoebe pursed her lips. “She’s what our Grams would have called estranged.” Kara arched an only semi-curious eyebrow at the the disclosure.

“Indeed, estranged.” Paige seemed seemed to shrink in on herself. Her vividness suddenly lost with the arrival of this topic of conversation. Prue reached over to pull Paige close against her side. Prue whispered softly in Paige’s ear, a few quick words that Kara did not let on she could hear. She watched the immediate effect, impressed by the light that soon again shone out of Paige’s wide eyes.

Paige leapt to her feet, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Tea?” Kara rose out of politeness, remembering the countless lessons on manners instilled by Eliza Danvers.

“Please, allow me to help.” Kara moved to follow Paige into the kitchen, receiving an acquiescing shrug in response.

“It’ll give my very overprotective sisters the opportunity to whisper about you in secret and determine whether you pose us any kind of threat.”

“Paige!” Prue exclaimed, brow drawn either in embarrassment or warning.

“I have one of those.” Kara murmured, feeling an inexplicable tug beneath her breastbone. She blinked at unexpected moisture on her lashes.

“Oh?” Paige led the way through the dining room into the kitchen. “An overprotective sister?”

“Yeah.” Kara swallowed, unsure why she’d mentioned Alex. The thought of chatting amicably on the subject of sisters made her stomach tense uncomfortably. Paige, seeming to sense the change in Kara’s mood, gestured to a high cabinet.

“Mind doing that thing you do, and grab the tea box?” Paige busied herself filling the kettle over the sink. Kara took the opportunity to wipe discreetly at her eyes. She drifted gracefully up towards the ceiling and grabbed the box in question from the cupboard.

“Here you are.” Kara landed softly, and placed the box on the somewhat cluttered kitchen island. There were spices she recognized, but a far greater proliferation of items to which she could not place a name.

“Yep, this is where the magic happens.” Paige joked, noting Kara’s divided attention. “Or not magic, right, Science?”

“Indeed.” Kara replied. She shoved her hands in her pockets trying not to appear terribly nosey despite being caught snooping. Paige grinned at the sight, her amusement only deepening at the color in Kara’s cheeks.

“Well, I’m going to Science us up some biscuits to go with the tea, if that sounds okay to you. Or maybe sandwiches.” It was all Kara could do not to lick her lips. She hadn’t eaten since … she couldn’t remember when. Her hands slipped out of her pockets to slide across her stomach as it voiced its own tacit agreement to the proposed sandwiches. Paige chuckled. “Sandwiches it is.” Paige bustled about, insisting Kara have a seat at the breakfast nook. “I’m not really the cook in the family unless you include being able to order takeout for any number of guests with uncanny accuracy.”

“Counts in my book.” Kara fiddled with a newspaper, left from the morning. It was a relief not to be staring at her commoditized image on the cover of the Tribune. Thankfully, the San Francisco Chronicle had far more interesting news to report.

“You’re cute.” Paige hummed, Kara knew the lyrics, some popular song from the summer. It almost made the revelation seem completely natural.

“I’m ...what?” Kara blinked, watching Paige assemble a tray of thick crusty sub rolls and the carvings from half a roast turkey. 

“Magic, I mean Science tends to be a calorie burner. Two each might be enough. I think there’s a couple of pies left over too.” Paige turned to dig through the refrigerator. “And I said you’re cute.”

“I’m …” Kara glanced up at the ceiling, actively avoiding Paige’s bent over form while she tried to piece together the conversation. “Thank you?” Paige stood up, two pie boxes in her hands and a triumphant smile.

“Pecan Praline and Blueberry Mousse, mmmm. That should do it.” Paige winked. “Give me a hand, Supergirl.” At Kara’s look of surprise, Paige shrugged. “You and your cousin make the papers around here too. Just not all the time.” Paige nodded at the Chronicle on the breakfast table. “I recognized you on that roof. I didn’t really think you were going to jump. Still, Supergirl on a ledge, have to admit my curiosity was piqued.”

“I see.” Kara’s shoulders drooped at having been taken in so easily by a stranger. Alex often accused her of being guileless. It was an increasingly difficult accusation to find argument against. “I prefer Kara. Supergirl is …”

“I get it.” Paige offered a tentative smile. “Help me out with these trays before Phoebe gnaws off Prue’s casting arm.” There was quite a bit with tea and pie and enough sandwiches to feed a football team but they managed with a bit of magical ingenuity on Paige’s part. Kara had to admit it was a bit of a lark to see the heavily laden trays floating through to to the dining room as if on their own power.

“By the way, she’s right.” Kara murmured, helping to settle food and utensils. She caught a glimpse of Prue and Phoebe approaching from the corner of her eye. Before Paige could voice any confusion, she elaborated, “Earlier when Prue whispered to you?” Kara winked as Paige visibly blanched. “Super hearing.”

“I’m starved.” Phoebe exclaimed, shouldering in between Kara and Paige. Paige eyed her sister dangerously at the poorly timed interruption only to be soundly ignored. “Are there any chips?”

“Grams would roll over. Could you pretend like you have manners, Mouth?” Prue admonished Phoebe, then turned a surprisingly apologetic look on Kara. “We’ve only just started letting her out when we have guests.” Kara stifled the rising merriment at Phoebe’s affronted expression and Prue’s unsubtle dig.

“Ha Ha.” Phoebe dead-panned.

Seated around the formal dining table with their pie and sandwiches, and the chips Prue had liberated from the kitchen with a wave of her hand, Kara allowed herself a moment to relax. It suddenly felt like she hadn’t eaten for days. She swallowed hard, jaws drawing to a stop when she noticed Prue again watching her quite closely. She wiped her mouth, concerned she might have mustard smeared embarrassingly across her face.

“I was … hungrier than I thought.” Kara demurred. “It’s really very good. Thank you.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Prue cut to the chase, ignoring the heated looks she was receiving from her younger sisters. “Our Paige seems to have a knack for finding trouble.”

“No.” Kara shook her head ruefully. “I’m not in any trouble. Though I seem to share Paige’s knack.”

“She’s different than the other kids.” Paige smirked, crunching on a potato chip. 

“Oh?” Prue arched a delicate brow and Kara was struck again by how enchanting the Halliwell women appeared in such close proximity. There was definitely something very powerful about them that Kara could not quite place. It worried at her senses, a tickling that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “How’s that then?”

“You could say I’m not from around here.” Kara replied, trying to sound a bit more nonchalant on the subject than she truly felt.

“Neither are we.” Phoebe snickered. 

“I don’t think, this is a conversation we need to have with a stranger.” Prue tried for stern. In this older sisters were hardly unique, Kara noted. She watched a silent exchange between Paige and Phoebe during which Prue’s resolve quickly eroded. Prue huffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine.”

“So, Once upon a time,” Paige began.

“Oh geez, here we go with the family fairy tale again.” Phoebe mumbled around a bite of pie. “Couldn’t we just cut to the chase on this and …”

“Give it a rest, Mouth.” Prue muttered.

“When I was a baby,” Paige began, “It wasn’t safe. Our Mom, sent me away to protect me.” Kara felt a twinge underneath her sternum, a sympathetic pain, recognition of the loss Paige’s words alluded to without being spoken.

“When she was twelve, her adoptive parents were killed in a car crash. Let’s just say the universe intervened so that Paige would find her way back to us, albeit with complications.” Prue interjected. “She almost died.”

“Our other sister, betrayed us for love.” Phoebe added softly. “She nearly cost Paige her life.”

“For a while after that, Prue and I were on the run.” Paige broke in again.

“From what?” Kara asked, already ensnared by the tale unfolding. 

“Well, to put it simply, assassins …” Paige pursed her lips, toying with a few crumbs on her plate. She met Kara’s gaze and added tentatively, “From heaven.”

“Is that a question?” Kara asked puzzling over the tone in which Paige had made this very odd revelation. She sat back in her chair to take in the earnest faces around her. “Or are you telling me that you were attacked by angels?” Kara wondered if she should make her excuses and leave. She’d left National City, thought she’d take a long flight, clear her head. She’d spent days exploring places untouched by human eyes, from the Arctic to the Amazon only to end up on a rooftop in the Tenderloin. She’d thought to spend a night watching the world go by, not this. Whatever it was.

“Well, not angels, not really.” Prue took a deep breath. “Aliens.” Kara blinked, then stood wiping her mouth one last time with her napkin.

“Okay, well thank you …”

“Hey, wait.” Paige reached out, fingertips brushing against the back of Kara’s hand. “Hear us out. Out of anyone, this shouldn’t sound terribly far-fetched to you.” Kara wondered if that was the same look she so often had used on Alex to win an argument. No wonder it worked so well.

“So.” Kara sat, crossed her hands in her lap, and took a deep breath. “Aliens.”

 

Twelve years earlier

 

"Professor?" Prue queried, inching through the open the doorway to peer into cluttered confines. This late on Berkeley campus, Prue had deliberately snuck past the roving security and managed to wind her way through darkened hallways to this very door. Seemingly unconcerned by the late hour, soft light pooled just beyond the threshold of a single door ajar among countless others shut tight and locked by long-departed occupants. Amongst the somewhat unkempt collection of research papers marked in red and first editions colorful with layer upon layer of post it notes, Doctor Richard Danek sat engrossed in his life's work. His small corner of academia was little to behold for anyone unfamiliar with the unbiased truth of his unaccountable contribution to the institution of learning over the course of his rather lengthy career. Prue, afforded the personal benefit of his tutelage in her day, was unperturbed by the clumsy appearance of the rotund professor tucked away in what seemed a forgotten corner of the obscurest corridors of Berkeley's Ancient Philosophy and Religious studies department.

"Oh my, Ms. Halliwell?" He was a stereotype of studiousness, down to the leather patches on his elbows. The grey streaks through his beard and the spectacles perched on the end of his nose were the uniform of his profession. "Did we have an appointment?" Prue eased the door open, careful not to disturb the wide dispersal of the Professor's research. He wasn't obsessed with order, as evidenced by the state of his offices but was exacting in the dispensation of facts. He never missed the details, no matter how minute.

"No, Professor, I'm sorry to drop in like this." Prue tracked his movement as he rose from behind his desk. He buttoned his blazer somewhat self-consciously, his waistband had expanded in the years since Prue had known him. He'd been her advisor during her time as a Berkeley grad. Most thought the Religious History professor with the nutty theories an odd choice for a student seeking a masters in Fine Art Conservation. Prue only felt a sympatico with his unique perspective and his undeniable fondness for French pastries and Belgian beer. Over the years, whenever Prue found herself stumped on a particularly tricky appraisal, she'd make her way to Danek's door bearing Peach Lambic and Chocolate croissants. Danek would say, You're getting in your own way Ms. Halliwell. He'd direct her attention to one of the many over-laden shelves in his office and offer little more as he delved into Prue's care package. It always felt like the answers were right there in front of her the whole time. "I have ... questions."

"Perhaps, I have some answers." Clearing away a haphazard stack of folders, Danek gestured for Prue to take a seat. 

"What do you know about witches?"

Danek hummed thoughtfully, attention already drawn to his shelves. "Well, there are those who assume that Exodus 22:18 is the authoritative reference on the subject."

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live." Prue muttered, feeling the heat of anger begin underneath her collar. Generations of persecution, the murder of countless innocents, had found justification with those hateful words.

"Yes, although a more accurate translation utilizes the distinction of sorceress rather than witch." Professor Danek, tapping his fingers lightly over the spines of several books before choosing one in particular, added with note, "In actuality, witches predate the Bard's poetic musings in the King James."

"References to the practice of Wicca have origins well before written histories." Prue pointed out. "The craft could very likely have developed thousands of years beforehand, I'd guess."

"Still my best student." Danek opened the book and placed it pointedly in Prue's hands. "As you well know, written history is only five thousand years old but the Craft as you call it can be traced reliably to what we commonly refer to as the Cradle of Civilization."

"Mesopotamia." Prue murmured scanning the pages. "First thought to have been settled 4500 BC, but likely a much older culture than evidence suggests." Glancing away from the book long enough to catch a knowing smile on the Professor's face, Prue added, "Your theory?" Danek circled back to his desk chair, fingers tented in pensive consideration.

"Were you aware, Ms. Halliwell, that the roots of your family tree have some historical bearing on this conversation?" Prue arched an inquisitive brow, foregoing response. "Your ancestors come from a long line of women rumored to be witches, am I correct?"

"You are." Prue nodded grimly, hesitating on how much she should safely confirm and what it would be best to deny. "I'll admit to having trouble making the intuitional leap you have linking the two subjects.". Danek smiled, all patience, his expression begging a bit of the same from Prue.

"Before your family settled in San Francisco and built Halliwell manor, did you know that there has long been an ancient mythology associated with your ancestral name?". Prue shook, her head unsurprised. "Witchcraft is quite old," Danek continued. "Magic is not at all what most would assume." Danek, paused searching for the beginning of a tale that seemed to defy the human perception of time. "As you know some of my theories haven't gained much popularity among my colleagues."

"You have more forbidden papers published than the average tenured Berkeley professor, Dr. Danek." Prue struggled against the smirk that tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I'll admit, I've often found myself curious." Prue shrugged, somewhat noncommittal. "All due respect, what if anything do your unsanctioned studies have to do with my family name?"

"According to the ancient Sumerians, followers of the Anunaki, a great deal." Richard Danek raised bushy brows in challenge, expecting Prue protest despite the confidence of his assertion. Prue simply sat in patient silence unclear as to what conclusions her longtime mentor was directing her.

"As you may know, the Upanishad, the mythological text most illustrative of that period in history recounts events we now commonly associate with the Old Testament."

"The creation and the flood." Prue affirmed, still at a loss for what if anything some of the world's oldest texts had to do with her current pursuit. There were some meandering logical discussions she could attribute to Danek's tendency towards loquaciousness. Given her pressing need for answers, she dearly hoped this wasn't one such occurrence.

"Why yes," Danek offered an appreciative nod and forged ahead. "There is a lesser known apocryphal text thought to have been written concurrent to the Upanishad. It describes a great schism and war among the sky gods, a war in the heavens between those who thought dominion over man was supreme and those who ventured to recreate men as equals rather than simple beasts of burden."

"And this war, how did it end?" Genuinely curious for curiosity's sake, Prue couldn't help but be drawn in by the tale.

"For all intents and purposes it didn't end, though the ranks of the defiant were severely diminished as decreed by those loyalists to supremacy." Danek gestured, falling into the rhythm of his recitation having garnered Prue's full attention. "It had been decreed that all who defied the will of heaven must be put to death and those among men adulterated by the influence of wayward gods were to be destroyed."

"Adulterated?"Brow wrinkled, Prue imagined a distributor unlawfully altering a product post manufacture. 

"This breakaway faction bestowed men with sacrosanct knowledge and power that had been uniquely the purview of gods."

"Like Lilith in the garden ...". Prue murmured, eyes widening in comprehension. "They gave men magic.". Danek nodded, as ever impressed by his former student's astute analytical capabilities. "In the Book of Enoch, there were angels." Prue tapped index finger against her lips in a habit the Professor had quite often observed of Prue in contemplation. "Sent by God to observe creation, they rebelled against this duty. Choosing instead to take wives, they vowed to live as men." 

"Yes, the Grigori, this parallel has often been proposed as yet another source of direct evidence of the parenthetical relationship of ancient Sumerian text to the bible," Danek added.

"Sumerian gods and angels." Prue hummed, a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat as shrugging she concluded it wasn't that great an intuitional leap given that much of the bible was borrowed allegory. 

"Much like in the biblical tale, when it was decreed that mankind having been granted the privilege of a sacred and thus forbidden knowledge must be destroyed, those defiant gods who defected to walk amongst men as equals determined to safeguard their efforts against the onslaught of heaven." Prue swallowed sudden nervousness, sensing the culmination of Danek's story-telling and in its finale, the answers she sought.

"How?" Prue whispered, rapt. Danek pinned her gaze with implication.

"A repository was created, and in it warded against the malicious attacks of the Anunaki, all the knowledge and power of heaven." Danek folded his hands across his ample stomach, an expression of satisfaction settled upon his features as though having concluded a hearty meal. It would have been anticlimactic even had the Professor delivered a pedantic 'Happily Ever After'. Prue's gaze upon him was no less than incredulous to have arrived so unexpectedly at the supposed end without the benefit of a resolution. Waving her hands as though directing traffic, she sputtered, the countless questions remaining in her unruly thoughts tumbling from her mouth as a single near indignant inquiry.

"And this repository, where is it now?" Danek redirected Prue's attention to the book lying forgotten in her lap. Prue read further, finding the reference the Professor indicated. "The war in heaven is recorded in an ancient mythological text so named in association with what is therein described as a mystical repository of knowledge created by those defiant gods choosing to defect from the Anunaki and live in collaboration with rather than in dominion over their creation." Prue looked up from the page, words falling from lips numb with shock. "This repository was known as the Warren."

"Not a where at all, my dear Miss Halliwell,"Danek intoned, "but, in fact, a who."

 

Family Ties

 

"Your family, you are the W'Arr En of Naltor." Kara shook her head in disbelief. "Your House is legend in our ancient histories. Your progenitors, after a dispute with the High Seer, cut ties with Naltor and took to the stars. The High Seer saw this as a great affront and there was a war. It is thought that your line was extinguished. I suppose your ancestors found refuge here on Earth."

"How do you know all of this?" Prue asked, somewhat suspicious as ever.

"It is taught in the history of my people. Naltorians and Kryptonians…”

“Kryptonians?” Phoebe arched a skeptical brow. “You don’t mean?”

“Kara’s Supergirl.” Paige side-eyed her sisters, adding a reserved. “Surprise.”

“I could microwave something for you.” Kara gestured off-handedly at the remnants of their tea. “Or we could just …”

“Yeah, no.” Prue shook her head, more out of fear for Grams antique china. “More than willing to take your word. Far stranger visitations have come our way here at Halliwell Manor, I assure you.”

“Could we possibly revisit the microwaving or possibly freeze breath at a later juncture?” Phoebe half-raised her hand, then gestured to herself confessing, “I’ll admit I’m curious.” Kara shrugged, as if to say why not.

“You were saying.” Paige glared at Phoebe, then turned an encouraging smile on Kara. “Naltorians and Kryptonians …”

“Yes,” Kara nodded, picking back up her train of thought, “We’re offshoots of the same branch. Historians less given to mysticism believe Krypton and Naltor were colonized by the same people many millennia ago." Kara explained. “Our shared ancestors were manipulators of gravity, thought to have the capability to create portals through time and space. They travelled here from a parallel universe, a world called Asgard.”

“You don’t mean the Gods from Norse mythology.” Phoebe shook her head in semi-disbelief.

“I do.” Kara nodded, “Even on Krypton they were thought to be gods, like Rao. It is said that they left their home to escape the vengeful hand of their father, a very powerful and very cruel deity. They resettled in this universe, seeding civilizations on countless worlds in countless galaxies.”

“Like here on Earth, apparently.” Prue murmured fascinated.

“Is it possible they could still be here.” Paige asked.

“Their matriarch is as old as this universe.” Kara shrugged. “Who knows?”

“Relative to the age of the universe, they seeded Earth just yesterday. Perhaps they stuck around.” Paige ventured. “We could find them, ask their help against …”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Prue interrupted with a pointed look to Paige to hold her tongue. Why Paige was constantly collecting strays and outing them all as witches, Prue would never understand. Even if Kara, or Supergirl, was trustworthy there was no need to disclose everything quite so quickly.

"So I get the part that you and your cousin are from this distant planet and you have super enhanced abilities." Phoebe jumped in, "But to be clear, are you saying that witches are descendants of refugees from a neighboring distant planet and that's why we have similarly enhanced abilities?"

"I thought you'd already figured the part out that your people are essentially what humans on Earth call aliens." Kara indicated the book in Prue's hands. Prue had called for it with off-handed ease, the paperback manifesting on the table between them as she shared what she knew of the true origins of the Halliwell clan. 

Kara had no idea who this Professor Richard Danek was, but he'd nearly hit the nail on the head with his theories. "Much like the House of El on Krypton, the House of En was one of the oldest on Naltor. It is recorded in some apocryphal texts that the House of En believed the seat of High Seer to have been corrupted. Your ancient ancestors were working to root out that corruption when they were driven from Naltor."

"What kind of corruption?" Prue asked.

“Well" Kara screwed her lips, looking upward thoughtfully. "If I remember correctly it was a secret sect that hoarded knowledge, hiding the practice of a very sinister branch of Scientific theory from the Guild Matrons. When they were discovered, they killed many of your ancient brethren. The W'Arr En oversaw the Guild of justice." Kara shook her head. "As I said, it is a rare and apocryphal text alluding such conspiracies. If it were true, it would mean that your ancestral house was destroyed to keep a very dangerous secret."

"Darklighters." Prue muttered. "It has to be." 

“Darklighters are magical beings, creatures the people here on Earth have historically mistaken for angels. They are charged with the task to kill witches.” Phoebe provided for Kara’s benefit. “The historical texts we have are diluted by thousands of years of mythos. They speak of a great war waged between heaven’s mighty Host and the Watchers sent to Earth entrusted with a great responsibility. Darklighters were ordered to kill the Watchers and all of their kind for disobedience in their duty.”

“It’s why they hunt us, even now.” Paige whispered, a shadow of something forlorn crossing her features. 

“These Watchers, they are the W’Arr En.” Kara nodded with certainty, “They were honored keepers of justice on your home planet. But these tales you speak of from Earth’s ancient texts, I think you are quite right. They have been diluted by history and mysticism. Unfortunately, the histories from my world aren’t much better in clarifying the subject.”

“Which is why it would be ideal to go to the source.” Paige insisted, gazing pointedly at Prue.

“These Asgard,”Prue sighed acquiescence as she turned inquisitive eyes again on Kara. “Could they still be here?”

“They were said to be immortal. So ….” Kara shrugged somewhat noncommittally. “I suppose it’s possible.”

“We could scry for them.” Paige murmured. “It’ll require a fairly powerful spell.” Phoebe jumped to her feet already headed for the stairs. She nodded in Paige’s direction, eyes indicating she recognized Paige had her hands yet full with their guest.

“I’ll meet you guys up there.” Phoebe called over her shoulder.

“I guess I’ll ...” Prue gestured vaguely toward the dishes. With a wave of Prue’s hand the table was cleared. She rose, headed toward the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Paige called after her sister, before turning her attention to Kara. “Think maybe I could convince you to stay. It’s late and I know you’re probably tired. We have a guest room. You could crash if you like.”

“It sounds like you have some work to do with your sisters.” Kara didn’t want to overstay her welcome but couldn’t deny being a bit intrigued by all this late night activity in the Halliwell home. It seemed they were often about such business as spells and potions. She hadn’t seen the like since … since the last time she’d been home, Krypton. This was what she hadn’t been able to adequately explain to Alex. This is what it had felt like to go to the temples, to worship, to practice. Magic, no Science, it had been the centerpoint of life on Krypton. Now here she was again surrounded by something that felt so familiar. Tears of what she could only describe as relief pricked her eyes, her cheeks heating with embarrassment that yet again she found herself so emotional in the presence of a stranger.

“Hey.” Kara started at the warmth covering her hand. She followed the line of Paige’s arm to the wide amusement of a soft pink smile. Paige really was quite striking. Kara had caught a glimpse of a picture of the sisters’ mother in the sitting area. She had been a very beautiful woman, who hadn’t spared a single lovely gene in passing to her daughters. “Stay. Please?” Kara blinked. Impossible really, those big brown eyes, Kara thought.

“Okay.” Kara couldn’t think of a single legitimate reason to go. She imagined her sister was worried, and her friends. But she couldn’t yet face them again. She was desperate for time and space, before those feelings bubbled up again, the ones that cried out for redemption only in death and insisted there could be no forgiveness for the deception in which Alex had been so readily complicit.

“I’ll get you settled.” Paige gestured toward the stairs, inviting Kara to follow her. “I’ll probably be up late working with my sisters, should you need anything.” Paige glanced back over her shoulder to catch Kara’s eye. “Or if you have trouble sleeping. Sometimes …” Paige continued talking easily as she led the way upstairs. “I have trouble sleeping. Nightmares.” She gave a voluntary shudder as though to rid herself of the very thought. Kara half-listened, eyes wide, trying to take in every inch of the manor. It was old. Much older than the Danvers home in Midvale. She was struck again by that tickling sensation of something deeper than the walls, hidden behind the portraits, holding it all together. As her hand ran up along the banister to the second floor, the hair on her arms stood on end. She felt an electric tingle traveling steadily up her spine. This place was like none other she’d ever visited on Earth.

“Here you go.” Paige opened a door into a cozy room, with light bed linens and shelves filled with books. “Piper’s room.” Paige murmured. “She moved out years ago, but ....” She shrugged. “Hard to let go, you know?” Kara nodded.

“I do.” Kara stepped deeper into the room, crossing her arms over her chest. She’d been wearing the same Midvale high zip-up hoodie, skinny jeans, and runners since she’d left. She imagined she could undoubtedly use a good freshening up.

“The bathroom, if you need it, is the third door on the left.” Paige pointed past the stairwell up the hall. “I’ll be upstairs in the attic, but my bedroom is just next door.” She gestured at the wall to her left. “Feel free to raid the closet or whatever for a change of clothes, and there’s fresh towels in the linen closet next to the bathroom.”

“I think I’m all set.” Kara offered a lopsided grin. “Thank you. You’ve been so kind to offer …” Paige shook her head, waving away Kara’s gratitude as though to dispel it as entirely unfounded.

“It’s nothing.” Paige lifted her shoulders and huffed out a breath, feeling the moment drift into awkwardness. “I’ll let you …”

“Yeah, of course. I mean you have …” Kara mumbled.

“Right.” Paige stepped out into the hallway, casting one last quick glance Kara’s way. “Night.”


	4. Please Read The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Author's notes and Disclaimer, please refer to chapter one.

The Fate of Watchers

 

There was a world before, covered in silence, with little to occupy the Host who'd come to it in what was but a moment of their eternal travels. It was thus proposed to obscure peace, until chaos tipped over the brims disquieting all the corners of this little rock they would call Earth. The Host tinkered and wagered and hypothesized, and were given to a destructive whimsy unique to their kind. 

It was taboo for the Host to so sully themselves by treading the wilds to commiserate with the beasts that propagated in the mud. Thus they sent their most devoted servants, telling them go forth and tend our flock, watch them grow fruitful, but do not intervene. And these Watchers sent out from the heavens did as they were bade. And soon enough their charges grew to hold great favor. The Watchers were swayed by their fondness and no longer felt obliged to their highest order. Seeing how the flock suffered in ignorance, seeing the true potential of their masters' creation, the Watchers came together swearing a pact that they would sow within the beasts the seeds of knowledge and in defiance remain distant from heaven, to wed themselves to the land and its inhabitants. They stole a great power from heaven and planted it in the earth.

Learning of this disobedience, an uproarious dissent arose among the Host for none would so defy their masters without consequence. The Watchers had defiled the sacred rite of knowledge in sharing it with lesser beings and had made themselves unclean by succumbing to lustful compulsions. The host sent their most fearsome, weaponed servants to lay siege upon the deviant, to destroy the knowledge the Watchers had sewed and all who’d grown fecund with it. Finally they would take back the ancient power that had been stolen.

A bloody war raged, sparing neither heaven nor the Earth over which it was waged. It was the first war before all wars, contended among angels and not quite gods. And so the Watchers felled by their kin, had but one act of recourse. They planted a kernel of what knowledge and power remained in a most sacred keep, that it should be preserved against enmity. And so it was and would be for all eternity.

 

“My goodness, Patty Halliwell, look at you!” Joanna Beauchamp open the door wide, and her arms wider to embrace such an old friend. “Whatever are you doing in East End?” Patty held tight to the embrace, long enough that when Joanna pulled away, there was concern etched on her face.

“I need your help.” Patty whispered around the sudden lump in her throat.

“Come then, darling.” Joanna ushered Patty in, waving the door closed behind her. Spring in East End, there remained a chill in the air. Joanna stoked the fire, making sure Patty was settled comfortably and bustled into the kitchen to make tea. When she returned, Patty was focused, albeit forlornly, on the roundness of her belly. Her hands cradled her stomach and she seemed, lost as she peered perhaps hoping to see the infant growing within her.

Sitting close, Joanna placed a warm mug into Patty’s hands. She waited until Patty had taken a sip, letting the warmth of the liquid revive her. Joanna smiled encouragement, placing a hand lightly on the crown of Patty’s stomach. She could feel the life that surged just beneath her palm, strong. Nothing to worry about there.

“Tell me, what trouble brings you on such a journey with a child so soon on her way.” Yes, it was a girl. Joanna could sense it with surety. Patty closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

“It’s the Host Jo, they’ll kill this child when she is born and I have no means to stop it.” Tears sprang to Patty’s eyes and it was all she could do not to cry out in sorrow.

“The Host.” Joanna grit her teeth in disgust. “They are nothing if not persistent.”

“It is I who broke the rules. Her father.” Patty gazed down out Joanna’s hand, loathe to say. “It’s Sam, my Whitelighter.”

“The rules are not theirs to make, Patty.” Joanna insisted, “No matter who the father of this child should be.”

“Since when?” Joanna had never had the same fear of those who ruled from Heaven, the Powers the Be and their army of Whitelighters. “This is how it has always been.”

“No, it truly hasn’t. But there is just the argument. For now, their dominion remains supreme.” Joanna conceded. “More important, we must find a secure path upon which to guide this child’s life.”

“I came to you because I was instructed to do so, a message from the future, conducted by ...”

“Cordelia.” Joanna whispered, mouth drawing into a firm line. She nodded, resolute. “So be it. I draw the cards and we shall decide upon your next move.” Joanna rose to collect the Tarot, but paused to offer Patty a reassuring smile. “Do not worry love, if Cordelia sent you to me she did so with the certainty that we can protect your child. Now drink your tea.”

"How do you wage war on Heaven?" Patty asked, sipping carefully at the warm mug. She watched as Joanna shuffled the cards and cast them on the coffee table before them.

"From Earth? Carefully.". The raven haired sorceress murmured words of some power extending her hand over the spread, digging deeper for meaning. “They have already been at work, altering. The timeline your family traverse is twisted.”

“Can we reverse it?” Patty asked, hopeful.

“Not reverse, no; but repair, indeed.” Joanna nodded, certain of her plan. “Yes, it will be a worthy effort.” She glanced up from the cards offering a wink of encouragement. “You are up to the task?”

“For Paige.” Patty smiled, placing her hands on her stomach as though to cradle her child. “Anything.”

“Then you’ll stay here. You’ll be safe through the birth and afterwards we will begin.” Joanna reached up to remove a necklace from her neck. It seemed ancient and featured symbols that Patty did not recognize. Joanna placed the pendant around Patty’s neck. “Until then, keep this close.”

 

The Fourth Sister

 

“Last night I dreamt I was … someone more than I am. I dreamt I was meant for a purpose, something beyond any possibility I could currently fathom. And all of it, came to me while I was held within the arms of someone I didn’t know, but familiar like home. I felt transformed. I felt truly loved.”

“And who was this someone you loved?”

“I don’t know.” Paige Matthews shrugged, confusion writ upon her features. She’d been seeing school guidance counselors and therapists most of her life. She loved her adoptive parents but had never truly been able to accept them. Her loneliness and the loss she felt every day had landed her in a dozen different offices just like the one in which she now sat. She’d grown accustomed to the act of confession. Really, what more was there to tell that couldn’t be found in her voluminous files The nightmares that had been unrelenting the whole of her life and the dark cloud of a depression that made so little sense. She’d been on antidepressants from the time she was in kindergarten. Now on the eve of her twelfth birthday, resigned to a life that felt barren of any feeling of belonging, she pondered the significance of a dream that offered such unfamiliar solace.

“Paige?” Curiosity from behind wire-rimmed glasses, Dr. Hubert gazed with patient inquiry. “Where were you just now?”

“Her hair was dark, like mine.” Over the doctor’s shoulder, Paige could spy the fierce pattern of rain against the window pane and a startling reflection of lightning, stark against a rolling mass of pitch. “And she smelled like lavender.”

 

"Prue, phone!” Prue Halliwell rolled her eyes. Since childhood, Phoebe had displayed a talent for using the harmonics of Halliwell manor to her benefit. Unfortunately, that talent had often been exploited in the cacophonous voicing of her discontent, to tattle to their grandmother about some likely imagined slight, or for the current use, household proclamations. The only thing that hadn't changed in these many years, was Phoebe's ability to rattle the windows with her bellowing.

Prue refrained from shouting a response, simply grabbed the extension in her bedroom. She'd save her frustrations for something far more fitting, like the chipped paint she'd recently discovered on the passenger side door of her SUV.

"Prue Halliwell speaking."

"Ms. Halliwell, Carlisle Coble with San Francisco Department of Social Services. Please excuse this late evening call. I’m afraid I have some emergent news that cannot wait." Prue caught a glimpse of the sudden surprise on her face reflected in the mirror of her vanity.

"I ... Okay.” Prue allowed herself a moment of genuine curiosity in spite of a disturbed burble of nerves building in her stomach. "How may I help you Ms Coble?"

"Unfortunately, I’m legally obligated to request your presence as I am not allowed to share this manner of critical information over the phone. By any chance are you free to meet me at Stanford medical center?"

"What exactly is this about?” Prue swallowed at sudden spiking anxiety. Were she not so certain Phoebe and Piper were currently downstairs fighting over the appropriate way to load the dinner dishes in the dishwasher she'd be panicking over the well-being of her sisters.

"Ms Halliwell I really cannot offer anymore other than the imperative nature of my request. Could you please meet me? It is rather an emergency.” Prue sighed, unable to gauge the voice of a stranger against her own instincts. Demons didn’t typically call and so politely request she show up in a public place before an assassination attempt. Nevertheless, she’d learned over the course of the last year since the constitution of the power of three, that she and her fellow fledgling witches could never be too careful. What would this newest mystery reveal and why did she feel as though she absolutely must follow this woman's directive.

"Alright.” Prue conceded. "I'm on my way."

 

“Ms. Halliwell?” Prue halted in her steps her attention momentarily diverted from the emergency admittance desk of Stanford Medical Center. If this woman was a demon, Prue would be hard-pressed to believe it. She took in the wrinkled business suit, off-kilter thick-framed glasses, and messy bun, finding the visual not at all in agreement with her own rationale to be wary of the stranger who had only an hour ago contacted her over the phone The woman stumbled in her heels as she clicked across the linoleum, dodging bustling nurses and patients. She scrambled to hold onto several files and a leather attache that seemed to be bulging at its seams.

“Yes, how did you ...” Prue reached out a steadying hand clasping the woman’s arm until she appeared a little less likely to acquaint herself with the slick floor beneath their feet.

“Oh!” Carlisle Coble offered a simultaneously sympathetic and disarming smile. “Well, you look just like her.” She nodded her thanks for the assistance as she straightened, her suit, despite it’s lived in appearance, falling quite favorably on her lanky frame. She could be a Halliwell, Prue mused, taken for a moment by the depth of brown eyes. Carlisle gestured for Prue to accompany her, cutting a decidedly swift path through the chaotic waiting room to far quieter hospital corridors.

“I’m sorry Ms. Coble, whom do I look just like. Further, why …” Prue hedged, not at all comfortable as their steps turned towards the Intensive Care Unit. She’d never been a great fan of hospitals.

“Please, call me Carly.” Carlisle interjected with a smile. It didn’t appear practiced and yet Prue felt an immediate ease that seemed almost a therapeutic touch. Did they learn that in Social Work programs, how to so effectively calm anxiety before completely turning someone’s life upside down. Prue couldn’t think of one time in recent history that she’d received good news in a hospital. She didn’t hold much hope this Carly Coble intended to eschew that pattern.

“Carly.” Prue paused, taking a deep breath. She pointedly avoided the prone figures, deathly still under white sheets, the combat to prolong these lives all too visible though tucked away behind glass. It reminded Prue far too accurately of the tombs that held her family’s ashes. If only these were equally soundless. The incessant beeping of monitors, the drone of ventilators seeped through on all sides. It surrounded them, invading the senses along with the harsh florescent lights and the antiseptic smell like portents of death, clinging to these echoing halls. Swallowing, Prue struggled to focus and jumped with unexpected shock at the hand that closed around her own clenched fist. 

“Ms. Halliwell.” If her smile was unaccountably calming, Carlisle Coble’s touch was the very definition of comfort and warmth. Prue’s fingers loosened and were inexplicably entwined with this strange woman’s. Prue flushed instant embarrassment, looking away from their clasped hands but unable to retreat from Carly’s gaze. “Prue.” Carly’s voice was encouragement tempered with sorrow. “There’s no easy way.” She gestured minutely with a nod, their steps coming to a halt. Prue chanced a glimpse, her free hand rising to her lips as though to still any expression of surprise. For there could no longer be any question of why she was here.

“She …” Prue murmured, suddenly hoarse. A frail spector caught in a web of wires, Prue could just detect each shallow breath with the rise and fall of hospital linen. A broken arm suspended in bandages and a catalog of scrapes marring pale skin, did little to arrest Prue’s recognition. Beyond the chestnut hair, perhaps it was the cupid’s bow of parched lips. She imagined them stretching into a smile that had been with her all of her life.

“Her name is Paige.” Carly’s voice broke over the enchantment of sudden shock with the same efficacy of the morning alarm. Blinking as though mesmerized, she sniffled, and was again surprised at the warmth of a stranger’s fingertips brushing tears from her cheeks. That didn’t seem strictly professional, Prue mused meeting Carly’s gaze only to be astonished by the empathy she found there. 

“She’s beautiful, just like my Mom.”

 

Prue juggled her keys and her mobile and with effort slid both along with her wallet back into her purse. It was a small triumph to do so without dropping a thing. She offered the cashier a contrite look for holding up the line before grabbing her latte and shuffling between patrons and away from the coffee carrel. She had heaved a momentous sigh of relief to see the portable cafe’s presence in the hospital’s cafeteria annex. She’d been twice as relieved to see it was open nearing eleven o’clock at night. Patronized by anxious family members awaiting news and late night hospital staff alike, Prue could hardly contain her relief that keen economical sense had so clearly married with the hospital’s efforts at hospitality given most of the food vendors in the cafeteria closed by nine.

The passage of time seemed exceedingly dilated as she’d spent two hours staring through the glass of the ICU cubicle where the unconscious form of her … of Paige Matthews lay. Prue had listened carefully to doctors, the surgeon who’d operated and the interns in charge of Paige’s post operative care. The counselors who followed were a bit of a blur, explaining exactly what Paige would need during the course of her recovery. Prue had vaguely heard months of physical therapy and the repeatedly stressed importance of lending adequate care and attention to the emotional toll this loss would have on Paige. Carlisle Coble had been present through it all, even when the Matthews estate lawyer had arrived to explain that Paige was an orphan with no immediate family. Carly had locked Prue in a comforting place deep inside that soft brown gaze to elaborate how Paige, as a ward of the state, would foreseeably leave the hospital and be placed in a hospice for the duration of her recovery. Eventually, she’d be transferred into a foster care facility unless someone intervened. Unless Prue, Piper and Phoebe intervened, Paige Matthews would be utterly alone.

The estate lawyer had departed to draw up the necessary documents for temporary custody. He said he knew a family court judge who owed him a hefty debt from a recent round of golf. That would easily justify the late night phone call and lubricate the not strictly by the books request to accelerate the legal process. When Prue had inquired about his fee, it was as though the balance on her checking account had flashed across her features as clearly as the anxious furrowing of dark brows. A close family friend of Jim and Marilyn Matthews, he’d dismissed her concerns outright, already taken care of he’d said and proved a veritable fount of knowledge where the family was concerned.

Prue couldn’t help but wonder about these seemingly naive people, who would take such an unfathomable chance. By all evidence Jim and Marilyn Matthews had been good parents. They’d lived their lives with foresight as there was a sizable insurance claim and what promised to be a profitable sale of real estate, even some modestly lucrative investments to prudently mitigate Paige’s needs, educational and otherwise. Church-going members of the PTA, they’d coached Soccer and volunteered at the local no-kill animal shelter. He baked. She gardened. They’d delighted in their little family, thought it precious from the moment they brought Paige home. And they’d struggled. Paige had … issues. That little disclosure remained vague beyond the allusion to extensive therapy and the surgeon’s mention that Paige would remain on her prescribed anti-depressants while in the ICU. What twelve year old kid is on a cocktail of drugs as long as one of Piper’s grocery lists?

Perhaps the Matthews’ had done their best not knowing that they were raising a magical child. Perhaps they’d misinterpreted something that Prue’s mother or Grandmother could have easily explained. Paige had been alone even whilst her parents still lived. Thus perhaps, it was for the best that this tragedy had brought her back into the arms of those who knew least and simultaneously best. The Matthews’ couldn’t have anticipated this tragedy but their rationale of whom to receive Paige’s records and notify in case of emergency, seemed nearly a magical intervention in and of itself.

Prue felt the impossible weight of guilt at her unrestrained relief that Paige was miraculously spared her adoptive parents’ horrific end. The crash itself and the conflagration that followed, escaped explanation. The paramedics, however, conjectured it was by virtue of failing to fasten her seat belt that Paige still lived. She’d been thrown from the vehicle at fairly high speeds hence her injuries grave and her prognosis quite tentative. Should Paige awaken rather than expire in that sterile hospital bed, Social Services sought to fulfill the Matthews’ final decree by authority of their last will and testament. Inexplicably the Matthews’ had reasoned that the very people who’d given their daughter up for adoption would come to her aid with similar willingness. Who, having first done the right thing, could now ignore the dire nature of Paige’s need? Paige had no one, no sibling, no grandparent, no aunt, uncle or cousin. The Matthews’ held out hope that a family who’d cared enough to give Paige a better chance by giving her up, would continue to do so now by taking her back. 

 

“Prue, Ms. Halliwell.” Carlisle Coble shifted out from under the haphazard evidence of her countless other cases, resulting in a near avalanche of dog-eared files.

“Prue is fine, Carly.” Prue reached out attempting to halt the ominous tilt and slide of paperwork off the chair upon which the social worker had been seated. “I didn’t expect you to still be here. Don’t you have …” Prue gestured to the paperwork.

“I do.” Carly bit her lip, looking away in an unexpected demonstration of embarrassment. “I just thought that maybe I could … well, that you might need ..” Carlisle rolled her eyes, feeling the beginnings of a blush traveling from the collar of her blouse toward the roots of her chestnut locks.

“Thank you.” Prue interrupted, not particularly eager to observe the woman flailing any further. As a second thought, she extended her latte in offering, “Here. You look like you need that more than I do.” Carlisle gazed at the cardboard to go cup as though it were the very last sunrise.

“Oh Prue, I … yes, thank you.” She smiled, their fingers momentarily brushing as she accepted graciously. Her eyes slid closed on a dainty sip, and she sighed in obvious relief. “Thank you.” She repeated reverently. “This job it’s … nonstop.” She gestured for Prue to join her, clearing folders and her well-worn attache so they could both sit. The ICU waiting room had few other occupants and the only sound was the quiet whisper of the television news on low volume. Prue sat, glancing at the monitor suspended from the ceiling to catch a more accurate glimpse of the time from what her weary body was telling her. 

“Your job must be pretty difficult, cases like these.” Prue murmured, tracking the bend of Carlisle’s arm as she took another sip of coffee. “Tragic circumstances.”

“I won’t say it’s easy.” Carlisle shrugged, and for a moment in rich brown eyes, Prue could see the steel doing this work had fashioned of the woman’s resolve. “But it’s certainly worth it if I can help someone like your sister find the home she deserves.” Prue flinched unconsciously at the use of the word. She still felt so unprepared to face that one most prevalent truth. Paige Matthews may not be a Halliwell, but she most certainly was Prue’s sister. Carly arched a brow, the tick clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed. “Are you ready for this?”

“Am I ready to take on the responsibility of raising a teenager who has just had her entire world shredded by the death of her adoptive parents and also in part by the premise that I’m the long lost sister of a dead mother who gave her up at birth?” Prue snorted, finding the situation absurd to speak aloud. “No. I’m not.”

“Well that’s a relief.” Carly grinned. “This becomes far less complicated the less you think you have figured out. Trust me on that.”

“Trust you?” Prue shrugged. “Sure, why not. Trusting strangers and raising troubled teenagers, I can manage.”

“You will. You have exactly what you need.” Carlisle reached over and grasped Prue’s hand in that way that Prue now recognized made the anxious buzz inside of her still into such peace.

“What’s that then?” Prue swallowed, caught, pinned, and entirely enchanted out of this reality fraught with trepidations. Confident, Carlisle gave Prue’s hand an overtly familiar squeeze and pat that should have felt out of place but was wholly reassuring.

“The ability to accept change and adapt.” Carlisle shrugged. “That’s it. That’s all you need and all Paige needs from you right now.” Prue hummed, in earnest consideration. That didn’t seem like a tall order, but then, she still hadn’t called her sisters. How did one even begin? 

 

It took some doing, but Prue managed to convince Carlisle Coble to go home, take a nap and come back in a few hours refreshed. The poor woman had been nodding off with a file in one hand and her half-finished latte in the other. Prue would wager that sleep was a distant memory and wondered how capable Carly would be driving herself home in her diminished state. It took less convincing once Prue reassured her that Carly would be the first phone call if there was any change in Paige’s condition. It seemed an odd thing to promise until that wide smile bloomed across Carly’s graceful features rendering Prue entirely mute. Carly had taken that opportunity to crush Prue in an embrace before clumsily bundling her things and click-clacking off along the corridor with a wave that was far too fond for strangers. Well, Prue mused, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to consider Carlisle Coble a friend, would it.

Since then Prue had found her way back to stand outside the small glass-encased cubicle where Paige lay undisturbed like a slumbering princess. Every now and again, an ICU nurse would pop in to check Paige’s vitals. As long as the monitors kept up their steady beeping and Prue could detect the slight rise and fall of Paige’s breathing, she found these interruptions of little note. She found herself wondering if there was some simple magic that could wake Paige like in those old fairy tales. She’d wrestled with the idea of calling upon Leo. The whitelighter’s healing power could be indispensable in Paige’s survival now when things seemed balanced on a precipice of uncertainty. On the heels of Piper’s recent stint in the hospital, Prue knew it would be impossible to explain another miraculous revival. No, everything had to be by the book, until Paige was officially in their custody. There would be no suspicious magics to cast a shadow on the confidence she knew she must build with Carlisle Coble and San Francisco Child and Family services at large in order to ensure Paige found her way back home where she belonged. In the interim, there was another call she knew she must make.

“Prue, where are you?” In spite of the turmoil the call evinced, Prue couldn’t help but feel comforted by Piper’s concern. “We’ve been worried sick …” Phoebe’s voice interrupted loudly from the background to inform Piper that they were out of milk and to tell Prue to stop at the twenty-four hour Safeway on the way home. “Well, I’ve been worried sick.” Piper amended. “Is everything okay? When you said emergency I assumed work but Phoebe said you were on the phone with some social worker.”

“I’m at the medical center at Stanford. And I …” Prue trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.

“Hey, remember what Grams used to say, tell the truth quickly.” Sometimes it was easy to forget how well her sisters knew her, Prue thought. Piper and Phoebe alone could read her anxiety from a phone call away. But only Piper had Grams no nonsense response. It was encouragement enough to just open her mouth and spill it all.

“Pipes, I’m here because we have …” 

“Prue?” Piper glanced at the phone startled by the sudden dial tone. “She hung up.”

Flummoxed, Phoebe offered an over-wrought expression of scandal, “Okay, but did she say she’d stop for the milk?”

 

Close by, the Watchers

 

She felt the glass at her back give, thrust into the room behind her by the force of her attacker’s blow. She fell among the shards, the crack and tinkle of impact receded quickly, giving way to the sound of her counter attack. She listened to the skid and thump a distance down the hall. She’d put a little something extra into the push, both hands extended. Simultaneously she’d pulled, disarming the man who’d appeared in a sparkle of light of his compound bow and arrow. She’d seen his kind before. Darklighter. The poisonous bite of those arrows were intended to kill only one kind of creature. Prue glanced over her shoulder to confirm Paige remained relatively unscathed. The monitors continued their patient beeping, ignorant to the battle that she now waged.

Climbing to her feet, Prue chanced a glance out into the corridor only to be ripped off of her feet. She landed hard, her back colliding against the floor with an audible smack that tore the breath from her lungs. Back outside Paige’s room, she sneered.

“If you think for a second you’re setting foot inside that room.” She wheezed.

“Who’s to stop me, witch?” His glee seemed palpable, as though already he celebrated the victory of this kill. Prue reached blindly calling for the weapon she’d sent careening to the other end of the corridor. He kneeled close, hands already forming the circle he intended for her throat. The arrow found it’s mark deep in his chest, a silence not even broken by his final breath. He hadn’t even a moment to register his own death, no shock to fill the hollow black of empty eyes.

Prue let her head fall back against the floor, struggling to catch her breath and fairly certain she’d cracked a few ribs.

“Prue!” Opening her eyes, she caught the residual sparkle of Leo’s arrival. She grinned at his less than stellar timing. So much for keeping magics at bay. “I sensed … what happened?” He knelt passing his hands over her torso. She watched the glow and felt the immediate lessening of the pressure in her chest as pain disappeared from her side.

“Darklighter attack.” She huffed and eased herself up to a sitting position. As if in second thought, Leo helped her to her feet but his attention seemed focused on Paige’s room.

“You know why he came here?” It was more statement than question. Of course Leo knew. The true question was how much he might actually reveal. Prue had come to accept that part of working with a Whitelighter was accepting their reticence in most subjects.

“I do.” Leo confirmed. He orbed through the broken window, reconstituting at Paige’s bedside. Inexplicably, Prue felt an unmistakable prickle of apprehension. Every instinct screamed not to allow Leo a single step closer. It was all she could do not to use her power to cast him away. Where had this feeling originated? She might not trust Leo to be forthright but she’d always trusted him with her life, and the lives of her sisters. But this, she could not deny the disquiet that had taken root and shaken her to her very soul.

‘Don’t.” Perhaps it was the harsh quality of her command that halted Leo. He retracted his hands from where they hovered over Paige’s prone form. Everything in his posture spelled guilt rather than surprise.

“Prue.” Leo held up his hands, already placating. But why? Instinct alone wasn’t evidence and yet Leo appeared ready for a sentence.

“I’m going to need for you to explain very clearly what’s going on here. But first,” Prue held up a finger in warning. It was as much a demonstration of her restraint as an emphasis on each word she spoke. “First, I need you to step away.”

“I’m just going to …” Leo hedged, with a hesitant gesture toward the bed.

“You’re just going to tell me what I’ve asked and nothing more.” Prue reiterated with a shake of her head. “Step away. Now.” The body of the vanquished Darklighter had vanished with a bit of smoke and sizzle, leaving behind little in the way of proof of his noxious presence. Well, one thing remained. Prue could just catch a glimpse of his bow and what remained of his arrows scattered at the far end of the corridor. She wagered she could have one in Leo’s chest far quicker than he could lay hands on Paige. The far more important consideration was why she felt certain she should be prepared for just such an eventuality.

 

"Prue?" The relief Prue felt at the arrival of her sisters was significantly checked by Leo’s simultaneous appearance. He’d no doubt chosen to orb Piper and Phoebe in an attempt to gain some leverage. 

No matter, Prue found his vague explanations wanting and no level of well-meaning if clueless interference on the part of her as yet uninformed sisters would dissuade her inquiries. With obvious over-simplification, Leo insisted that darklighters had been sent to kill Paige because she was a child born of the forbidden union of a witch and a whitelighter. "A union forbidden by your Elders?" Prue had accused as much as asked. Why else would her Mother have shattered her own heart abandoning her child to strangers if it weren't out of fear? Patty Halliwell hadn't feared the dominion of evil in her desperate attempt to insure Paige's safety. She had feared the far more potent reach of so-called good. "Keep this secret always, Prudence. You must never tell." She'd gripped Prue so tightly in her arms, anxious for a promise no child could be expected to make. But Prue had never been just a child and she'd sworn a vow of silence as though it had been written in her very blood. Prue remembered it so vividly, her mother's desperation and the achingly painful absence of the sister her mother had carried. 

Piper and Phoebe gazed around the small ICU room with mounting concern.

“I don’t even know where to begin.” Piper glanced from the shattered glass covering the floor to the room’s sleeping occupant. Prue waved a hand and the glass beneath their feet rose reconstituting itself, and hovered in the panes where it belonged.

“Pheebs.” Prue instructed with a gesture towards the web of glass shards. Phoebe closed her eyes composing as she chanted.

“As it was, put it back. Make it whole, not one crack.” Under an incandescent shimmer that traveled along each shard, the glass stitched itself together good as new.

“Now hoping security didn’t notice whatever commotion accompanied all that,” Phoebe turned back to regard Prue’s protective stance at the side of the hospital bed, “Want to clue us into who the hell this is?” Phoebe nodded indicating the sleeping girl.

“This is Paige. She’s …” Prue took a deep breath, placing a hand out to cradle the crown of Paige’s head. “Well, she’s our sister.”

“Okay, I can’t.” Piper threw up her hands. 

“That was quick.” Prue marveled at the dramatics so early. She had yet to read them into the part where darklighters were attacking.

“Way to go Dad.” Phoebe muttered, shaking her head in disappointment. “So this is why he left. He has another family? And where is he? Did he abandon her too?”

“Actually, she’s not Dad’s. Paige was born about a month before …” Prue swallowed through the old familiar pain, “before, uh, Mom’s death.”

“You knew?” Piper closed her eyes shaking her head in denial. “How could you?”

“Keep a secret I’ve been sworn to since I was thirteen?” Prue countered. “Well, it wasn’t exactly easy. This.” Prue gestured encompassing all of them. “Broke Mom’s heart. This is why she gave up. This is why she died.”

“She didn’t give up, Prue.” Piper retorted, incensed. “She drowned.” Phoebe glanced between the two of them. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this argument but usually it resulted in shouting and at least a week of tense silences between her sisters.

“We’re not having this argument.” Prue rolled her eyes in frustration. “Regardless of whether or not Mom, a woman who was a strong swimmer and a powerful witch, faced off against a low level water demon and died - Paige is our priority right now.”

“And how exactly did that happen?” Phoebe broke in, turning an expectant gaze on first Prue and then Leo. “And why did this room look like the manor after a demon attack?”

“Actually it was a darklighter.” Leo broke in, drawing a shrewd look from Prue.

“Still not willing to expound any further upon that, Leo.” Prue retorted.

“I’ve told you what I know.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She threw up her hands, smirking when Leo winced, shrinking away in response.

“Woah, Prue.” Piper held up a hand, taken aback at the sudden animus. “What the hell? Leo’s here to help.”

“No, he’s not. Are you?” Prue crossed her arms, gazing expectantly.

"Leo?" Piper gazed between her sister and her … what was he, really? Not a boyfriend, not a lover, Leo was elusive. Besides she was seeing neighbor Dan now and all the residual sexual chemistry and tension between her and Leo would fade soon enough. Maybe. "Prue?"

"I'm going to make this simple, seeing as my sister is quite taken with you and the last thing I want to do is break her heart.” Prue offered, eyes locked on Leo’s. Piper made a noise of desperate displeasure at the albeit accurate description but said nothing. ”You take this one and only warning back to your bosses. I will tear hell asunder and burn down heaven to protect my family."

"You don't want to do this Prue.” Leo shook his head as though he’d known all along where Prue’s stubborn nature would lead them. ”Let me take Paige now. Give me a chance to convince them ..."

“Take Paige?” Phoebe held up her hands. “Take her where exactly? You did happen to notice that the kid is hooked up to monitors in a hospital bed. How about you just heal her and we take it from there.” 

“Darklighters have been sent to kill her. She should come with me.” Leo looked away, the meaning behind his words suddenly very clear to Prue.

“Because she’ll be safe or for some reason you have yet to illuminate.” Prue seethed. “Since when do your kind abide a forbidden union or much less the result.”

“So, what Paige comes from …” Piper ventured, “Our Mom and her whitelighter?"

"Hmm, I guess we see how exactly you take after Mom, huh Piper.” Phoebe quipped. 

Ignoring the jest, Piper replied, “Maybe someone could take a moment to explain why darklighters are attacking or why we suddenly have a sister in a hospital bed. Where has she been since, well let’s see, birth?”

“Or why Leo’s being so …” Phoebe squinted as if trying to decipher something in the discomfort of his stance. “I don’t know what, but there’s something off about you, bro. What’s up?”

"What’s up is Paige is an abomination in his eyes, right Leo.” Prue accused as comprehension dawned. There was but one reason that Patricia Halliwell would have given a child up for adoption - to save its life. “And this isn’t just about your bosses frowning on fraternization between whitelighters and witches. Whatever you aren’t telling me, I will find out the truth. Consider this your one chance to have an honest conversation with us. If all you truly have to offer is the simple fact that your kind cannot abide a being walking the earth endowed with all the mystical powers of heaven's guard, then that leaves us only two truths in this world of ours, Leo. One, there is no trust to be had for angels, dark, light or in between."

"And the other?" Leo asked, seemingly unimpressed by Prue’s declaration.

"The next time I so much as sense one of your kind near my kin, I won't be quite so willing to share in patient discourse such as this." Prue declared simply. Phoebe’s jaw dropped in surprise, rendered silent for perhaps the first time in her life.

“Prue!” Piper held up her hands, horrified. How had this gone so wrong so fast? “Please, don’t!”

"You would declare war on heaven?" Leo’s gaze darkened and for the first time, Prue thought she might be gazing upon his true form, a creature quite capable of wrath. It only strengthened her resolve. 

"And all it's host."

"That is a mistake you and your sisters will sorely regret." Leo spared first Piper than Phoebe a glance as he still hoped they might intervene, convince Prue that standing in the way of heaven’s decree was folly. But neither said a word. Phoebe took it all in with wide watchful eyes and Piper turned away, holding back tears. Prue allowed him the moment, letting the reality of what had come to pass resonate fully. He, a whitelighter, no longer stood among allies and the Halliwell witches would no longer abide the directives of heaven’s host. 

The silence stretched but a moment, before Prue intoned simply, "You should go now."

 

Dark, Light and In Between

 

"Paige Matthews," Piper murmured working the name around her mouth like one of those oversized jawbreakers out of a twenty-five cent candy dispenser. It felt foreign and unmanageable. There was little in the exceedingly small room of the Intensive Care Unit to distract from the girl lying unconscious before her. Phoebe had returned to the manor under Prue's direction to find some means of defense against dark and white lighters alike. Prue had headed off in turn for 'answers'. What Piper failed to understand by Prue's reasoning, if Leo couldn't provide any further clarification, what hope did any of them have in finding those answers under heaven. Stepping close as though the change in perspective might yield some previously unrevealed nuance to this latest wrinkle in the lives of the Charmed Ones, Piper peered down at the bed in consternation. She was a pretty girl, if pale. She had a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks and full lips that were every bit the picture of their dead mother. Piper reached out, fingertips brushing several strands splayed in monochromatic relief against bleached hospital linen. "Who are you and why have you incinerated all of our lives?"

"She's a mistake." Piper jumped, visibly startled at the sudden sound of Leo's voice from the doorway. She sized up his notably reproachful tone with wary regard. Even before the elders had stepped in and torn their fledgling romance into so many irreparable pieces, Piper had never been a fan of Leo's high-minded disapproval. It was far too paternal for her liking. The last thing she needed in her life was another figurative father. "A deadly one if you continue to follow Prue down this path."

"You shouldn't be here. You should know by now that Prue doesn't issue threats idly." Piper stepped around the bed placing herself between it and Leo.

"Piper, you know I can't just leave." Beseechingly, Leo reached out but Piper shrugged away from his touch.

"She's a kid, my sister, whatever that means." Piper struggled with what was still so unsettling about this news. "She's not a mistake and she’s certainly not some abomination for your bosses to strike from the Earth."

"This is beyond you or I, Piper." Leo intoned, all the menace and mania common to prophecy darkening his words. "This is about the natural order of this world. The power she wields is dangerous and not intended to exist on this plane."

"You can't take her." Piper shook her head but the waver in her voice was telling.

"She won't be harmed." Leo eased closer, within easy reach of the bed. Piper stiffened, hands hovering away from her sides with nonspecific intent. She knew, in spite of her posture, she could never raise a hand against him. Perhaps Leo knew this too. "Just step aside, Piper and I promise everything will be alright."

"How can you promise?" Piper closed her hands into fists, attempting to no avail to rid herself of the agitated trembling of muscles from shoulder to fingertip.

"I can promise because I love you and would never do anything to harm you." Another step closer and Leo's hands were a warm comfort along tensed knuckles. Piper sighed, tears sudden on her cheeks. His touch was such a welcome relief. It had been so long. In a rush of breath, her fingers were clutching the material of his shirt, her arms wound tight about him. She would not let go, she swore to herself, not ever. Leo stroked her hair, lips light against her temple. Would the moment just halt and freeze around them? No.

Piper stifled a sob as she felt him pull away. She turned deliberately from the bed, shunning the scene as though she could so easily block out the consequence of what she'd chosen. When finally she did open her eyes and glance tentatively over her shoulder, the bed was empty, the room silent, and she was terribly alone.

 

"Pheebs!" Prue shouted, letting the front door slam with neglect behind her. She was halfway up the first flight of steps headed toward the attic before she heard an answering shout.

"Up here!" Phoebe's reply drifted down from the attic door ajar. Prue picked up speed on the second floor landing, taking the last stairway two at a time. She hit the attic at a near run, receiving a startled look for the effort. Phoebe gazed at Prue askance but a moment before gesturing to the Book of Shadows open on the lectern before her. "I have some ideas about security. I'll need Piper's help with potions. I made some notes.". Phoebe nodded toward the ominous weaponry she'd recovered from the floor of the hospital corridor. " And we still have that - equally effective against white and darklighters alike."

"Good." Prue nodded grimly. Phoebe relinquished her space, following Prue's determined movements as she retraced Phoebe's steps, flipping quickly through several pages. "This is good." She repeated, looking up to meet Phoebe's gaze. It was easy to read the trouble there. Stepping around the book, she inclined her head, inviting the argument she'd come to think of as Phoebe's natural reflex. "Well?"

"Well ..." Phoebe shrugged, incredulous. "You just unilaterally declared war on heaven Prue. Maybe that could have been a decision we all reached democratically with sufficient background information and forethought." 

"There wasn't a viable alternative." Prue insisted, maintaining a firm grasp on her calm despite the compelling urge to dismiss Phoebe's concerns as irrelevant.

"To your inexplicable need to prove to Leo that yours is bigger," Phoebe shook her head, "I definitely think there was an alternative. When did we start discarding long term allies with negligible discretion? We weren't far enough out in the cold having to dodge assassination attempts brought to bear by the source of all evil?"

"There is far more at stake than Leo and his cronies would have us believe." Prue stepped past Phoebe toward the attic door. "They are not now, nor have they ever been, aligned with our best interests, most certainly not with Paige's."

"You going to let that little gem drop like a stone straight to the bottom without comment?" Phoebe gazed expectantly, her face flushing with growing ire. "That kid, our newfound sister, is maybe twelve." The algebra required for that sum was negligible and Phoebe was quite capable of achieving a very telling sum. "You knew, Prue. All this time and you knew." Prue blinked, mouth working but finding no words adequate to deflect Phoebe's astute observation.

"I promised." She shook her head, wishing she could make better sense of the conflict she'd felt all these years since her mother had given Paige up. "Grams and Mom, made me swear. I couldn't betray them."

"What else is there? What other secrets are you holding onto, keeping from us when all we have is each other? What skeleton, buried so deeply in time, could be more important than trusting us?" Phoebe stepped forward, reaching out to unfold Prue arms. She gripped hands, cool and thin, though long and tapered within her own. When Prue at last met her eye, there was nothing left of anger between them, just honest disclosure. "We're your sisters, all of us, and Mom and Grams no longer bear the burdens they left behind. We all do, together, or not at all."

"You're right." Prue conceded, nodding. She pulled Phoebe into her arms, giving a warm if abbreviated hug. "I'm sorry." She pulled away, relinquishing the hold and striding toward the door. "We have work to do and there's quite a bit I need to share with you." Close behind, Phoebe followed a rye grin gracing her features at Prue's ever brusque, ever all-business manner.

"Where do we begin?" She asked trailing Prue down the stairs. Prue turned from the stairwell, pacing quickly down the second floor hallway. Leave it to Prue to insist upon a mid-crisis wardrobe change, Phoebe mused with a smirk. She watched in interest as Prue ignored the voluble contents of her closet in favor of the floor to ceiling, orderly if overstuffed bookshelves. Bearing texts she'd been collecting since childhood, tapered fingers with manicured nails traced lightly, tip-tapping well worn spines. Phoebe took in Prue's personal library with wary appreciation. It had certainly grown since their indoctrination into the craft. If there was an additional resource that could prove useful, Phoebe had little doubt as to the likelihood of its presence right there among Prue's voluminous holdings. She watched expectantly at last as Prue plucked a sole paperback, of little note from amongst the others.

"We begin," Prue finally answered, with the weight of the text passing from her hands, "at the very beginning." Phoebe mulled over the title, expecting it alone to hold all the answers they required. 

"Message From the Stars by Doctor Richard Danek, PhD." Phoebe murmured skimming the synopsis. "Prue ..." She glanced up in profound confusion. "This is about ..."

"Aliens." Prue nodded, hooking Phoebe's arm and leading her from the room. "I know."

 

Reconnaissance

 

Halliwell manor virtually towered on its hill. Serene and undisturbed by the relative quiet of neighbors passing on their way, it seemed a peaceful bastion to its tenants. Dusk soon on the horizon, soft melodic strains drifting down to the street, too slight unless one was posed just beyond the steep concrete steps to hear. 

Humming softly, Prue snuggled close under her mother's arm. Closing her eyes, she fit her hand to the round swell of Patricia Halliwell's bountiful belly. Seven months Prue counted. She smiled feeling a soft thump under the palm of her hand. It was as though the baby knew. She always kicked when Prue was near. She loved her little sisters, handful that Piper and Phoebe were, but something deep within told Prue with certainty that she shared a special bond with this latest addition to their family.

"Mama." Prue whispered, loath to disturb the blanket of quiet swaddling their shared seat, the porch, and the street below. Prue planted the toes of her sneakers, gaining purchase in a crack to push the swing a bit. She imagined the rocking motion soothing the baby nestled inside her mother's womb.

"Yes, my love?" Patricia drew a hand through Prue's hair. She planted a kiss on her daughter's freckled forehead.  
"What will you name the new baby?"

"Hmmm." Patricia hummed, thoughtful. " What do you think I should name her?"

"Another P," Prue began, matter of fact. "Penelope, Patricia, Prudence, Piper, Phoebe ...". She trailed off, waiting for the missing piece to materialize in her thoughts. 

"Pamela?" Patricia offered, to which Prue fervently shook her head.

"There's a Pamela Sutton in Piper's class. She steals Piper's dessert every day at lunch." Patricia frowned at the unexpected news.

"Is that why Piper's been asking for two puddings?" Prue nodded.

"She hides one in her backpack to eat during recess and gives the other to Pamela at lunch."

"Did she come up with that all by herself?" Patricia couldn't deny the crafty nature of the resolution in spite of the reason for its necessity. It was an odd feeling, pride at her little girl's willful independence in conflict with the dismay that they were growing up so fast.

"Yes. She said she didn't see the point of tattling to a grown up if all it took to keep Pamela Sutton from pushing kids down in the playground was a pudding cup." Prue replied, adding thoughtfully, "Piper's had a lot less skinned knees since you started packing two puddings in her lunch." Of course, Prue thought ruefully, there may also have been a day Prue had caught Pamela Sutton on the way home from school bearing a pointed warning or two.

"Alright, no Pamela. Let's see ... Persimmon, Perry, Pumphrey, Priscilla." Patricia grinned at the growing distaste on her daughter's face. "What, no Priscilla?"

"Everyone will call her Prissy!" Prue turned up her nose in horror. 

"No of course you're right, Prudence." Patricia shook her head, humor threatening the carefully schooled gravity of her expression. "P ... P ..." Patricia hummed thoughtful.

" How about Paige?" Prue interrupted, the name leaping from her as though of its own accord.

"Paige." Patricia tested the name on her lips, smiling at the unexpected fit. "Oh my yes Prue, it's perfect." As if in agreement, the baby gave an answering thump under Prue's hand.

"She likes it too!" Prue grinned. She gazed down at the street, appreciating the night sounds stirring around them as dusk gathered resolute.

 

Terrible Creatures

 

"What the fuck, Piper?" Prue gazed from the empty bed, to Piper's cross-armed stance before it.

"I take it she isn't somewhere in this hospital having tests done." Phoebe interjected, subtly shifting to stand between her sisters.

"She's with Leo." Piper tilted her head, chin jutting in defiance. "He said she won't be harmed and I believe him."

"Wow Pipes ..." Phoebe shook her head in dread. If the expression on Prue's face was any indication, this was going to explode into a brawl the likes of which she hadn't observed since the time Piper "accidentally" broke Prue's retainer in the garbage disposal. As Phoebe recalled, it had been retaliation for Prue hiding Piper's sticker collection and claiming Grams gave it away to "needy children". In actuality, Phoebe had borrowed the collection for show and tell and subsequently lost it somewhere between school and home. Prue had offered herself on the pyre of Piper's righteous indignation and Grams' definite punishment for Phoebe's sake. Suffice it to say, Prue and Piper had torn the house to shreds basement to attic trying to find their respective belongings while intermittently erupting into bouts of fisticuffs worthy of the WWF.

"What is wrong with you?" Prue's voice rose. She advanced, boxing Phoebe between them. 

"He promised Prue. He's our whitelighter."

"Do you even know what that means?" Prue pointed an accusatory finger over Phoebe's shoulder and directly at Piper's upturned nose. "He's an angel, Piper, with a single mission on Earth." Prue took a breath trying to calm herself. "They kill our kind and have since the beginning."

"I trust him." Piper insisted, incredulous at Prue's wild accusation. "He'd never hurt any of us."

“Every word has been a lie since the day he came into our lives. Not to put too fine a point on it, but that actually makes him unworthy of our trust." Prue shook her head, in dismissal. She wasn't going to waste precious time on pointless arguments. "I warned him Piper. I did that for you." She turned, out the door before Piper could fully react.

"Prue!" Phoebe called, brushed aside as comprehension dawned.

"You can't." Piper shouted running to catch up. She placed a restraining hand on Prue's arm. Determined, Prue's pace didn't falter.

"Yes, Piper I can." Prue replied steady, as Piper dogged her steps through the hospital. "I'm going to kill him and nothing in heaven or on earth will stop me if he's harmed Paige in any way. That's a promise in which you can fully place your trust."

Phoebe trailed close behind as Prue navigated the hospital corridors seemingly inoculated against Piper's increasingly choleric arguments. 

"I'll never forgive you." Piper slammed her hands against the hood of the SUV as they reached the car. The sound echoed through the parking deck like a shot. Phoebe jumped startled more by the irate look in Piper's eyes, the vow they held. "Never." Prue's concern for Piper's threat seemed as finite as the short tone of the disengaged alarm. Prue pulled open the passenger door to dig in the glove compartment.

"Prue, maybe we could just take a beat here." Phoebe hedged. She side-eyed Piper seething. How many temper tantrums over the years to become so expert at ignoring them? Prue elbowed Piper aside to unfold a map on the hood. Her words quick and barely a whisper, she dangled a crystal over the lines and symbols of the greater San Francisco Bay area.

"We don't have a moment Phoebe, and neither does Paige." Prue paused startled at how quickly the magic found its mark. "I need a spell that will send me here."

"I won't help you hunt him." Piper interrupted, placing her hand over the map. It was no more than a gesture and hardly enough to dissuade Prue's efforts.

"Oh but you will help, to protect Paige, our sister." Prue stepped close, gaze intent on Piper's. In that moment, she was a Halliwell matriarch, the most powerful witch of her time. Her will would not be ignored. In spite of her anger, Piper found herself looking away, guilt dueling for supremacy. "Phoebe." Prue prompted, eyes never leaving Piper's face.

"Um," Phoebe hummed, grasping at the words in her mind to direct the power needed for this enterprise. "Grant her passage, from this place to the ancient, sacred space. Send her forth, to protect, waste no time, do not neglect. Let her loose, let her fly, let her be empowered by ... all who charm, all who spell, on her journey fare thee well."

"On her journey, fare thee well." Prue intoned, focusing her energy, feeling it join with Phoebe's. "Piper." Prue prompted expectantly. Piper shrugged away, stubborn.

"Piper please." Phoebe interjected Sliding her hand into Piper's. She gripped reassuringly. "She's just a kid and she's out there all alone. She needs us."

"Damn it." Piper cursed under her breath. She peered at the map and the area pinpointed by the scrye. She could only imagine how scared she would have been as a child, abandoned in the dark and cold with a stranger. She wouldn't wish that on anyone least of all family. Meeting Prue's gaze, she steeled herself against the conflict warring inside of her. "Keep her safe. We'll meet you there." Prue nodded, the stern determination softening in her eyes for a moment to reveal her appreciation and love.

"I will." Prue murmured, she placed her own hands to clasp her sisters. The immediate surge in power was palpable. With a deep breath, Piper closed her eyes centering herself to complete the incantation.

"On her journey, fare thee well." In a blink, Prue was gone. Piper gave Phoebe's hand one last squeeze. "Let's go."

 

"Leo." He glanced up, not at all startled at Prue's sudden presence in the clearing. The wood was old and filled with ancient magics. It had seemed to titter a gleeful welcome at the subtle shift in energy upon Prue's arrival. She hadn't appeared with the sparkle of heaven, the shimmer of its unearthly chime characteristic of servants and Host. She'd appeared like a wink, suddenly inexplicably there. Her capability to cast such a powerful locomotive spell was news to Leo. She was developing far more quickly than was comfortable for the elders. Leo knew the light hand with which he'd directed the Halliwell's path for generations would no longer be an acceptable measure. They were too dangerous to the interests of Heaven.

"They told me to stay away. To just let what must inevitably happen come to pass." Leo gazed down at Paige's form, unstirring, laid upon the forest floor like an offering. "If I just did nothing, my dark brethren would do heaven's bidding in my stead and these many millennia of war would end with the death of one child."

"And had you not come to the hospital," Prue watched him carefully as he knelt over Paige's body, hands hovering in what appeared to be indecision, to heal or to kill warring clearly on his features. Angels truly were terrible creatures. Gifted the power to heal, how could they so often choose to destroy life rather than preserve it as their bloody history demonstrated? "If I had called?"

"I wouldn't have come." Leo turned away, a darkness like tar obscuring blue eyes. His hands blazed with energy. Prue launched herself forward, incantations filling her head and spilling from her lips as she strained to breach the distance between them. she swore to herself she'd never let Paige come to harm, willing any necessary sacrifice. She begged for the intervention of ancestors, for the combined strength of the Halliwell matriarchs in this trial that was beyond the scope of a reality to which she'd once been privy. Humans didn't wrestle angels outside allegory.

It was an instant, not even a breath after the light of Leo's power encompassed Paige that Prue's magic in turn embraced him. In the sudden outpouring, she could feel the many hands of her timeless pedigree joined to assist her. Leo took flight as though a thing of negligible substance, disappearing from the clearing into the obliterating shadow of towering giants. The telling noise of breaking branches soon receded into silence. Prue wagered Leo's impromptu flight would only prove a temporary distraction. She prayed it long enough to see herself and Paige to relative safety.

She scrambled to Paige's side, reaching for a pulse only to be greeted by blinking, brown eyes. Prue had rehearsed a dozen speeches in preparation for this moment, looking into her baby sister's eyes for the first time. All of those carefully constructed words left her. She truly was the image of their dead mother. Prue cleared her throat anxious at least to reassure the girl of her safety despite their somewhat nightmarish surroundings, only to be interrupted.

"I know you." Hoarse from disuse, Paige's voice barely stirred the quiet, creaking night sounds of the ancestral trees swaying and settling under the influence of the breeze upon their distant canopy. "I saw you." Paige swallowed painfully, the bobbing of her throat an agonizingly slow wave under pale skin. "In my dream." Her eyes slipped closed as she finished, as though exhausted by the effort. Stunned a moment by the matter of fact assertion, Prue managed a nod.

"My name is Prue." She announced, electing to save responses to prophetic dreams for a time a little less fraught with impending danger. "I know this is a lot to absorb right now but you are safe with me. I'm here to take care of you and right now I have to get you out of here."

"I know." Paige, round face solemn as a prayer, reached out. Prue wasted no time slipping an arm under legs pricking with goose flesh. The hair on the back of Prue's neck was equally alert though perhaps less from any chill in the air. She feared their time to flee may have already expired. Imagining herself in the gym finishing up a set of squats, she positioned her feet and drove upwards. Paige clutched weakly at Prue's neck. Letting the girl's weight settle in her arms, Prue marveled at how light her burden. Pointing her steps in the opposite direction to which she'd observed Leo's impromptu flight, Prue ran unrestrained quickly swallowed by the dark. She hoped for both their sakes she wouldn't stumble into the far more immediate danger of a cliff or night time predator. 

Letting go Prue's neck with one hand, Paige reached forward blindly, eyes squinting in concentration. This kid was full of surprises, Prue mused, watching the forest before them transformed from largely indistinguishable as illumination filled the corners, chasing the shadows well ahead. Unwavering, Paige's hand was ablaze, blinding white, like nothing Prue had ever witnessed. She could feel an uptick in respiration where Paige rested against her. Paige's chest rose and fell in a swift, staccato that urged Prue to hurry her steps.

"Hang in there, kid."

 

 

Where Do Warren Witches Go?

 

“Prue.” Prue blinked awake The first greyed tinge of dawn sneaking through a finite space held between heavy motel shades, splashed careless across dull carpet to illuminate Paige’s wide-eyed profile.

“Can’t sleep, Nugget?” Prue reached out, unable to hide her smile at Paige’s disgruntled expression.

“I’m not a nugget.” She crossed her arms contemplating the merits of making her argument or climbing in to snuggle so prompted. 

“I know.” Prue conceded. “You’re my big, grown up girl.” Paige nodded sagely, round eyes hypnotic against the backdrop of features yet elfin. Nevertheless, Prue saw more of their mother in Paige with each day. Paige took a tentative step forward, squealing in surprise as Prue reached forward with unexpected swiftness and scooped her into the warm cocoon of blankets. Paige giggled, wriggling towards freedom to little avail as Prue mercilessly tickled. “You’re also my nugget and you always will be.” Prue grinned, pulling Paige against her, so curled snugly under her chin. Prue ruefully admitted, Paige was growing fast. She’d be thirteen in months, nearly as tall as Prue. Paige yawned widely and tangled her fingers in Prue’s loose tresses.  
“Tell me my story?” The only tale Prue had recited with more frequency than she could account, had been the story of magic. When Paige had come into Prue’s life so unexpectedly, Prue hadn’t herself known the true full story of magic. Nor had she yet crafted the fairy tale that coaxed Paige to sleep on nights like these. When Paige asked for this recitation, as she always did, Prue would begin …

“Do you know that when the world began, magic was free in it, like all the raindrops that belong to a storm, or the wind worrying the treetops?” Paige, feigning ignorance of the story’s outcome would shake her head no, anxious to hear more. “There was a great disagreement high above the clouds by an ancient people who called themselves the Host and a small few who served them, called the Watchers. The Watchers would peer down through the clouds to where they could see that magic was free but unfortunately it remained just beyond the reach of the people of the Earth. So the Watchers decided together to defy their masters and flew down to meet the Earth people. And in doing this, they said look, see how there is magic all around you.”

“And the Host were angry because the Watchers loved the Earth People more than their masters.” Paige interjected, sleepily.

“Yes, they were very angry and they tried to steal all the magic and keep it only for themselves. But the Watchers were more clever than their masters. Do you know why?” Prue asked, knowing quite well that Paige did.

“Because they made a special place to hide magic where their masters couldn’t reach.” Paige answered.  
“Yes they did.” Prue felt a surge of untempered pride. Sure Paige had heard these words hundreds of times, but one day, with familiarity, it would be more than just a bedtime story. It would have meaning well beyond her childhood comprehension. “They made the Warren, a special place to keep magic that would protect it always.”

“And I am the littlest Warren?” Paige asked, her inquiry seemed earnest, not just part of their typical script. She pulled away to gaze up into Prue’s eyes, asking something different this time, asking for more than just the bedtime story.

“Yes.” Prue answered, with a seriousness that belied the fanciful nature of the tale paraphrased from their ancient family history to be accessible to a very special child. “You are the last of our line, and unique in all the world.”

“Because Mama gave me up?” For a moment, Paige’s curiosity paled with sorrow.  
“No, she never gave you up.” Prue placed a loving hand on Paige’s cheek. “She sent you to live with the Matthews, to keep you safe.” 

“And then the Host took Mama away?”

“They did.” Prue swallowed at the sudden painful spike of memory at the death she remembered vividly. “Because they want the very special magic you hold inside of you. And our mother vowed that they would never get it.”

“And you too?” Paige asked, a tendril of fear rose as a tremor in her voice.

“When you came back to us that night after the car crash, I made a promise to Mom, wherever she was, that I would always keep you safe. Always.” Nodding with seeming satisfaction, whatever question finally answered, Paige snuggled tight against Prue’s side, letting her eyes slip closed.

“Me too.” 

“Hmm, what’s that nugget?” Prue murmured, stroking Paige’s hair, listening to each breath slow with the steady approach of sleep.

“I promise I’ll keep you safe, always, for Mama.” Prue smiled, blinking back tears.

 

Sometimes she came with soft, unobtrusive knocking on the motel door. Prue would rise from troubled slumber, pace the shadowed steps and know before calling out an inquiry, who waited patiently on the other side. Sometimes she was a silent sentinel in a solitary armchair, a watchful eye through the night, and gone without remark by morning. Prue would sense upon waking, she’d been there by a familiar change in the atmosphere. Sometimes Prue would wake, to reach blindly into the darkness. Heart rocketing beneath the blanket in that instant before her fingers were clasped in warmth she tried to imagine her fear without the reliable solace of her personal sentinel keeping magic’s most precious vessel from harm. 

“She loves that story.” Prue blinked awake, catching sight of the figure sitting on the end of the bed. She’d grown accustomed to such appearances and hadn’t startled at an unexpected presence in the shadows for some time.

“She does.” Cordelia’s back, rigid under Prue’s measured gaze seemed, impossibly, to straighten further at the prodding of toes against her thigh. “Come here.”  
“I’ll wake her.” Cordelia declined, unable to turn and meet the eyes boring deliberately into her.

“You won’t, and you know it.” Prue reached out, waiting patiently for that all too familiar hand to clasp hers in the receding dark of early morning. “She’s impossible to wake.” She placed a tender kiss on Paige’s sleeping head and waited. The anticipated hand in hers soon came, bringing with it a warmth she desperately yearned for in Cordelia’s absence. There was a frigid, barren feeling that came of being hunted. Cordelia alone seemed indefinably capable of curing that cold, chasing away the oppressive reminder that someday they would meet all of heaven’s host and all those fallen to the world below. Ancient texts had such a poetic turn of phrase for what those ignorant to this war called angels and demons. To Prue, they were simply estranged kin, that bloodthirsty lot of them, murderously envious of a small child.

With a gentle tug, she pulled Cordelia into bed next to her, content to be sandwiched on each side. Cordelia wrapped long arms about them, holding Paige and Prue both securely in her embrace. 

“Shall I tell you a story now?” Cordelia asked, lips momentarily tickling Prue’s brow in a kiss.

“Yes, please.” Prue smiled wide, closing her eyes to delight in the reverberations of Cordelia’s voice against her back, the delicate brush of each breath against her skin.  
“And how does it begin?” Humor rang in Cordelia’s voice, thick and intoxicating, Bourbon and wood smoke. Prue shivered, delighting at the sound, only to be pulled so very close she could feel the responsive kick of Cordelia’s heartbeat.

“Do you know that when the world began,” Prue whispered, surrendering to the lull at the heart of a well-spun tale, “magic was free in it, like all the raindrops that belong to a storm, or the wind worrying the treetops?”

“Ah yes, of course.” Cordelia placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Prue’s mouth, lush with pleasure, and fell into the rhythm of the story with familiar ease. “There was, a very long time ago, a forge of magic that worked freely upon the world. And do you know it was the responsibility of the kin to safeguard it?” Prue nodded.

“It was the highest order of heaven.” Prue replied.

“Yes, so when the Host decreed that magic be stripped from the world, to keep it from those deemed unworthy, the Watchers declared …”

“The first war in heaven.” Prue finished, feeling a prophetic shiver at the words. Much as Paige had grown up learning the story of The Warren, Prue had laid each night in her mother’s arms and learned the first prophecy. It foretold the coming of the most powerful witch of the Warren line and the faithful companion who never left her side. “Cordy, funny how our stories never begin with once upon a time, or end with happily ever after.”

“But Prue,” Cordelia held her charges close, unaccountably aware of how dangerous it was to tell the truth. “This is life not a fairy tale.”

“No it certainly isn’t.” Prue murmured. “I want so desperately to take her home. It couldn’t be any more dangerous than this, living on the road, never knowing where we’ll end up next. She deserves a place where she can grow up, feel safe and know she’s home, know she never has to leave out of fear.”

“You can give that to her at the manor.” Cordelia replied.

“How can I?” Prue shook her head. “Without the power of three, it’s just a house with a target painted on the roof.”

“You have to forgive Piper.” Cordelia sighed, anticipating the argument, the very same they’d had for months now. She pressed on, nevertheless, and would until her charge was convinced to abandon this folly, this blind flight from danger. “She regrets what she did.”

“Her regrets, no matter how appropriate, won’t keep Paige safe.” Prue shook her head. “I can’t trust her. Not so long as she is with him.”

“You can’t make her choose, Prue.”

“Why can’t I?” Prue retorted. Paige stirred next to them, but remained asleep. Prue took a breath, then continued in a strained whisper. “She chose him over her own blood, over a child, our sister. There may be forgiveness in Heaven or on Earth for that betrayal, but that doesn’t mean I can forget, or should.”

“You can’t protect her alone, not forever, and not like this.” Cordelia insisted.

“That’s why I have you, right, Ms. Coble or Chase or whatever your real name might be.” Prue pulled Cordelia closer, finding humor in spite of the resurfacing of this very old argument. “My duly appointed bodyguard.”

“Not quite a match for heaven, Prue, but yes you have me.” Cordelia smiled into the darkness.

“I do, don’t I?” Prue whispered. Cordelia traced a loving kiss along the back of Prue’s neck.

“Always.”

 

On the day Preceding Paige’s Accident

She awakened not in darkness to a memory of agony but she felt nothing now. Strangely unburdened, there was an ease in that she knew immediately that she had died. And even the remembered moment of death seemed swiftly to recede. What had she expected? A bright light, floating, and the warmth of welcoming arms, Mom, Grams, so many possibilities arose. Yet instead, there she sat on an ordinary park bench, with fresh paint smooth under her fingertips. Her feet scuffed a path stretching away to meet a blurred horizon. Soft hills and a sky full of fluffy white, idyllic if silent, Prue strained ineffectively to intuit birds that did not chirp, bees that did not buzz. And no, on all that soft green grass under that wide blue sky, there was naught to be heard of laughter or children at play. 

Seated at her right, close enough to feel the prickle of awareness under her skin, a young woman with a starlet’s smile. She could be a Halliwell with those dark tresses and deep eyes. Prue spared her a significant look - nope, not heaven. Of course, given consideration that she'd declared war on heaven and all it's host, she doubted she was all that welcome there.

“Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Cordelia. You can call me Cordy if you like..” Not Carly, not yet, Cordelia smiled with a rueful shrug. Prue‘s eyes were not unlike the theater, stage lights dimmed. Carly watched the players portray comprehension and betrayal.

“You’re one of them, right? A whitelighter? What else could you possibly want?” Prue asked, her shoulders sinking with the instinct of exhaustion. 

“Actually no,” Cordelia contradicted with vehemence. “I am most certainly not a whitelighter.” Prue continued undeterred as though she hadn’t heard Cordelia’s declaration.

“What more could I do? I gave my life fighting a war against evil. Do you mean to tell me that because I rebelled now and then I should not expect to spend eternity with my loved ones, watching over my sisters? Is there no rest even in death?” 

“Well, first you should know better Prue. Was life ever so simple?” There was amusement unchecked in Cordelia’s tone, though hardly smug. Prue almost imagined it bitter but filed that away as unlikely. Even in this new constellation of mistruths, Cordellia seemed determinedly light-hearted in spite of these odd circumstances. 

“Are my sisters safe?” Cordelia, leaned back, crossing long legs and clasped her hands over her knee. She gazed out upon the stillness, the beatific though lifeless landscape.

“What is safe, Prue?”

“Alive. Aware.” Prue murmured, “Perhaps not safe.” The tears were so sudden, she winced at their sting. There, the warmth of that touch, fingertips brushed delicately at damp cheeks and Prue could not deny the relief of something familiar given a moment wrought by desperation. “Why aren’t Mom and Grams here to meet me?” She sniffled, hiccuping on a sob.

“You aren’t dead, Prue.” Cordelia seemed fascinated a moment by the sparkle of tears, before allowing her hands to retreat to more neutral space. “Yes, you were engaged in a battle with the Source and almost died, but you are not with the dead as you perceive it, corpses floating above the sky. Though,” Cordelia shrugged enigmatically, “You are not, at this moment, exactly with the living either.” Closing her eyes, Prue tried to imagine the park filled with sounds. She filled it with picnicking families and soccer games and frolicking pups. Opening her eyes again, the fantasy in her head dissipated in favor of the resounding stillness.

“Just in between?” Prue sighed automatic concession. She had learned to accept the burden of responsibility. Her magnificent power was conditional, entrusted to protect so many who depended on her capability to stand against whatever tide may rise. “Sometimes I thought that’s what life was, an in between. And I was so certain that every battle waged was another step towards somewhere definite, somewhere solid, complete. But there is nothing else. Just this limbo, these futile acts of self sacrifice, these games of good and evil that have meant nothing and have taken me so far away from everything I know and love.”

“Every breath is an act of purpose. Every moment gives forth a world inside this limbo as you call it that defies the very idea of creation.” Cordelia shook her head. “No start, no finish, just the in between, Prue.” It was with a steady gaze that Prue met, not all-knowing in its certainty, just confident in one thing. “We strive to perfect the worlds we choose to deliver, our every act of purpose infinite. Do you understand?”

Beyond her own breath, her and Cordelia’s voices, the silence finally interrupted by the sound of children playing. Prue shook her head aware and waiting for the one final piece to fall into place.

“Think of this as one of your astral projections; but with the aided benefit of a guide as we are on a somewhat extended journey..” Cordelia reached out, relieved when Prue clasped her hand, and they walked. They ambled really, down a street achingly familiar and Prue equally relieved at Cordelia’s hand in hers. Her smile friendly, Cordelia oddly familiar and reassuring in her warmth, felt as much against Prue’s palm, and their clasped fingers. Prue’s gaze danced over the manicured lawns and the homes towering above the street, the mailboxes with names she instantly recalled with fondness. Giving in to a sudden impulse, she leaned close and whispered these moments in Cordelia’s ear, eager to have something to share with someone. She marveled at Cordelia’s widening smile, the perceptible shake of laughter, the scandalized twinkle in dark eyes. This was magic, as much as any incantation. Cordelia’s shortened breath, clutching Prue’s arm with uncontrolled delight felt like the grandest spell she’d ever cast. 

As they drew nearer Halliwell manor, they could just see three dark haired girls playing in the yard. Prue recognized Piper age thirteen perhaps, and Phoebe, ten in pigtails and pinafores and gap-toothed grins, these her sisters for sure. But the third, the youngest at three maybe four, striking in her resemblance, was not readily familiar. A voice from inside the house called to them, supper time. Piper and Phoebe dropped whatever game they’d been playing, to race ahead laughing. They disappeared inside with barely a glance back. The youngest of the three, eager to catch up, stumbling on a shoelace, fell on the front walk to sit cradling a scraped knee. Prue moved forward, intent on assisting but it is Cordelia’s restraint that halts her. “Watch.”

A perplexed look colored a face that could be described as cherubic with freckles splashed across the cheeks. She appeared to be torn on the decision as to whether or not to cry out - her mouth a determined line against a single sound making an escape. A teenager appeared on the front porch, eyes scanning the yard in obvious consternation until they came to rest on the small girl seated on the sidewalk. Prue gasped, recognizing herself, seventeen she thought, every memory of that time rushing back. This moment was not among them. 

Teenaged Prue seemed little surprised by the tableau, and squatted next to the child to run a loving hand through long dark hair. There was a tender smile on Prue’s lips when the child looked up at her, eyes resolute. “It hurts.” The little girl announced. “But I don’t think I’ll cry.” 

“No sweetheart, you never do.” There is something like affection and pride in those words, as Prue held out her arms more in question than assumption. Nodding, the child allowed herself to be swept up and giggled as she was subsequently spun around then dipped until nearly upside down. “Come along let’s get you cleaned up for dinner and you can explain to Grams how you managed this latest injury.” When they were gone, the front door closing with the tinkle of wind chimes, Prue asked of Cordelia the obvious.

“This is a world that should have been, where your mother Patricia lived and raised her four daughters here in Halliwell Manor.”

“Four.” Cordelia met Prue’s unsurprised gaze. These are the burdens of being the eldest, a keeper of family secrets. She had known, had known since she was old enough to interpret whispered conversations between Mom and Grams. Her mother’s untouchable sadness, so profound before her sudden death. “A perfect family, happy, whole …” Prue again closed her eyes, imagining this unfathomable reality. “Mom and Grams, and magic right?”

“Yes.” Cordelia nods, “Here, the Halliwell sisters grow up in a home filled with magic and the understanding that theirs was a magnificent destiny.”  
“You said before, every act of purpose infinite, a whole new world striving toward perfection.” Prue mused, in a moment dismayed at the family she’d lost, twice now, one of which she’s never even known. “Why is this world so different from my own?”

Cordelia shook her head ruefully. "It should never have felt right, that other life. Witches born to magic live each breath of life entwined with their power, not bound from it. The life you lived, that reality was false, a place-holder fabricated by a most ancient enemy to your kind."

Shrouded in grief’s sights and sounds, the inky garb of mourning, Prue recognizes her father standing in the Halliwell mausoleum. A wall of plaques bear witness, the family, generations of Halliwells interred eternally and the three latest additions: Patricia Halliwell, Penelope Halliwell, Piper, Phoebe, Paige and among them all her own name, Prudence. 

“This seems unavoidable.” Cordelia explains. “In every universe, should your mother choose to give Paige up and to bind your powers, tragedy follows before the Halliwell sisters come of age and are endowed with the power of three. Car accidents, fires, sickness, in some worlds, a demon attack strikes down the entire clan.” Cordelia gestured in a helpless manner, “No matter how or where, one absolute truth remains, none of you fulfill your destiny and not soon after the way of witches throughout the world comes to an abrupt and violent halt.”

“So what”, asked Prue, “are you suggesting that Mom’s decision to send Paige away and bind all of our powers eventually kills all of us? Clearly someone hasn’t been paying much attention the last few years. Binding our powers and dumping Paige in some orphanage was the most difficult but most advisable action my mother took. It kept Paige safe. It kept us all safe."

“No, it left you to the questionable mercy of heaven and all its Host," Cordelia murmured her own eyes intent on the mourners, “You all drew breath at their pleasure, acted at their whim. You helped them keep your kind imprisoned here on Earth.". Prue gasped, covering her mouth with both hands as though she could somehow with old the building sorrow. Her life had been built on lies. 

"We're slaves in cahoots with the overseers."

"No," Cordelia intoned, " You’re victims aiding and abetting your killers.". Prue turned away from the scene, unable to stomach the evidence of her entire family's violent end.

"Paige is to be the most powerful witch ever to have lived, a witch with the means to conquer the concept of good versus evil, bring an unprecedented period of peace to the warring factions of the supernatural community, liberate your people from the tyranny of heaven's Host.” Prue as awestruck as Cordelia was blunt, “There is nothing simple about the why of any of this. Only she must live, Prue, you all must, no matter the sacrifice.” 

“Tell me what I must do.” Cordelia placed a gentle hand on Prue’s shoulder.

“Let’s help her find her way back to you.”

 

Past Imperfect

 

“How will I convince her?” Prue fiddled restlessly, jiggling the car keys in the ignition while her eyes scanned the street.

“She already knows you.” Cordelia stilled Prue’s hand with a touch. She drew Prue’s attention with the heedless accuracy of orbit. She was gravity and Prue felt everything unwound inside her fall into place.

“Nicolas.” Prue muttered recalling the demon that had been the impetus to a trip back in time for her sisters. Seeing her mother then had torn open such an old wound. Some losses didn’t heal with time. As eager as she was to see her mother one more time, she was not invulnerable to the emptiness that would follow. 

“She’ll remember.” Cordelia glanced, out the windshield from the passenger seat. “She’s here.” Prue tracked Cordelia’s gaze, holding her breath, waiting for that first jolt of recognition. When it came it was with an added twinge of sorrow for what her mother was about to do. Patricia Halliwell stood on the sidewalk, transfixed by the towering edifice of Mount Saint Mary’s Convent and Orphan Asylum. The building was intimidating if not grandiose. Quiet on a Sunday, its occupants no doubt attending mass in the adjacent chapel, Patricia had but to scale the stairs and knock. One of the sisters would come, usher Patricia in with immediate recognition of the pain etched upon her features. That was how Paige’s story would unfold, had until this moment. 

“Go on.” Cordelia urged. Prue felt a tingle in her palms, like the magic of her power, but knew it to be nerves. This would change it all. Cordelia leaned over, placed a chaste kiss, expertly aimed for the corner of Prue’s mouth that made her lips twitch. From that first moment in the hospital as Carlisle Coble, Cordelia had behaved with a familiarity that suggested more than so newly formed an acquaintance could allow. Prue might chance one day to ask how many times they’d endeavored together to change all of this. Sometimes, there was a pain in Cordelia’s eyes that told Prue there were far more than one single life to be counted between them.

“Go on.” Cordelia repeated, leaning back in the passenger seat. Prue opened her car door, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and realized every word she’d rehearsed for this moment was gone. She took a breath with each step, deep and full, feeling light-headed, giddy and anxious. Until at last she was close enough to see the bundle in her mother’s arms, close enough to reach out and touch the trembling shoulder. Patricia turned startled and blinking past tears, she focused blearily on Prue.

“Prue?” Confusion cut a momentary path through Patricia’s sadness.

“Mom.” Prue’s voice caught, and she found herself unsurprised at the sudden welling in her own eyes. “Mom, I can’t let you do this.”

“You what?” Patricia sniffled, straightening her shoulders in sudden comprehension. With resolve that hadn’t been there an instant before, she shook her head. “It’s for her own good. It’s the only way to keep her safe.”

“That’s not true, Mom. She’ll never be safe and you know it.” Prue insisted. She placed a hand on the crown of Patricia’s pregnant belly, imagining the life just beneath her fingertips. As if in response she felt a soft kick. Prue smiled wide, and whispered “Paige.”

‘And you know we are not meant to alter timelines Prudence. You shouldn’t be here.” Patricia turned out of Prue’s reach and began to make her way up the multi-storied steps to the entrance.

“That’s not strictly true, Mom.” Prue followed, to place a steadying hand at the small of Patricia’s back. “This timeline has already been altered by the forces from whom you are attempting to protect her. But your efforts will fail. They will find her and she will be alone with no one left to keep her safe. She’s special Mom. You can’t send her out into the world alone. She needs all of us.”

“A chance to escape, that’s what she needs.” Patricia halted, gazing imploringly at Prue.

“There is no escaping. We simply are this.” Prue gestured between them. “You know as well as I do that there’s nowhere to hide under heaven, nowhere to run from what’s coming. She needs her family.” Prue placed shaking hands on her mother’s shoulders. She’d never had the chance to look eye to eye with Patricia Halliwell, not like this. She’d been thirteen when her mother had died, still small for her age. With aching clarity she recalled that day loomed mere weeks from this very moment. “Do you remember when I was little, the story you’d tell me before bed. The story of the Watchers and the Warren?”

“The last of our line.” Patricia recited, remembering those evenings, her eldest whispering in tandem to a bedtime story that Penelope had shared in like fashion years before at her eldest’s bedside. Prue gestured over her shoulder to the car where Cordelia sat observant.

“Do you know who she is?” Patricia’s eyes locked on the car then again on Prue with wonder and fear. Prue nodded confirmation. Patricia reached out, pulling Prue as she could manage around the girth of her abdomen.. 

“I just thought I could spare all of you.” Patricia struggled against the futility of sobbing.

“This is our family, our destiny.” Prue pulled away, gazing intently into her mother’s eyes. “We may never free ourselves of this grudge our kin yet bear against us. But we must try.” One last embrace, “You know where you must go.” Prue whispered into her mother’s ear. Patricia closed her eyes, breathed deep, gave in to one last memory. 

 

Memories and Visions

 

"Mama!"

Phoebe blinked in the darkness, straining to see past the inky shadow that consumed the contents of her bedroom. The fuzzy remnants of dissipating dreams seemed to swim before her eyes.

"Mama!" Confusion obliterated by the distressed shout echoing from down the hallway, Phoebe's feet met cool floorboards an instant later. She navigated the darkness with the familiarity of having done so countless times before. Through the doorway, her feet shuffled swiftly along the hallway runner, and into the bedroom from which the shouting continued. 

"Hush, Paige. You're okay.’ Phoebe slid onto the edge of the bed, disentangling sheets and smoothing blankets. "Shhh, just a bad dream."

"Mama." Paige mumbled, brow furrowed. Phoebe had the most cursory understanding of the visions that troubled her sister's dreams. The trauma of those last moments surrounding the tragic events of the deaths of her adoptive parents resurfaced many a night, seemingly in unpredictable cycles. Some nights, as if by virtue of her precognitive power, Phoebe could anticipate with fairly reliable timing which peaceful moment would be shattered by Paige's disquiet.

"Pheebs?" Prue’s voice, worn and tired, drew Phoebe's attention to the doorway. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, she could just pick out the weary droop of shoulders.

"It's okay Prue. Go back to bed."

"But ..." Prue flailed for an argument to remain in spite of the exhaustion pulling her back towards slumber.

"I'm here and she's ..." Phoebe shrugged wearily. "She's fine." She drew her fingers through Paige's auburn hair, shushing and humming. She yawned wide and readjusted to recline against the headboard. Paige murmured, calm easing her features in sleep, and turned to burrow into Phoebe's side.

"Sure she is." Prue replied in obvious uncertainty, whispering a soft goodnight as she disappeared from the doorway. Phoebe listened intently to Prue’s retreating footsteps before returning her attention to Paige. She'd spent more nights like this of late than she cared to count. Halliwell Manor was a silent spectre in these hours while her family slumbered. Phoebe, left alone with her thoughts, worried anxiously over the persistence of Paige's nightime terrors.

 

Phoebe struggled out from under the blankets a grimace of discomfort coloring her features. She could all but detect steam wafting up from the sheets. Despite the early morning chill of mid-January, her pajamas were liberally dampened by sweat. After months of waking up after a long night sitting vigil in Paige's bed, the one other fact Phoebe had learned about her sister aside from the on-going plague of disturbing night terrors was Paige's naturally feverish body temperature. It wasn’t like sleeping next to a furnace so much as sleeping inside a blazing inferno. Paige often shrugged in response to Phoebe's concerned inquiries as apparently blistering hot was her norm. 

Phoebe glanced at Paige's pale shoulders hunched against the draft in the room. Pulling the blankets up snug, Phoebe tucked, fussing until she was confident Paige was inculcated against the cold. She ran one last careful hand against the tangle of Paige's sleep-mussed hair before turning to tip-toe quietly from the room. 

"This," Phoebe looked up, pulling the door closed with little disturbance to the relatively silent hallway. Prue watched, a coffee mug extended with a wry look. "Has to stop."

"Don't I know it." Phoebe accepted the coffee gratefully. She sipped, feeling an immediate jolt of artificial energy. "Unfortunately, we're at a bit of a loss for answers."

"How about a shrink?" Phoebe made a poor attempt at stifling a yawn, shrugging at Prue's nonplussed expression to the seeming nonchalant reaction. 

"She's a social worker.”

“She’s an intern.” Phoebe corrected meaningfully to which Prue merely shrugged.  
“If Paige thought she needed a shrink I'm relatively certain she'd have far better access to professional help than either you or I could furnish.” Phoebe mumbled begrudging affirmation to what seemed a sound enough argument. 

Around another sip of coffee she replied, "Fine. How would you suggest we intervene?” She rolled her eyes, and turned, unsurprised at the determined steps dogging her own as she headed for her bedroom. Prue leaned in the doorway, eyes tracking Phoebe's morning rounds but offered nothing in response beyond a noncommittal expression. Shrugging, Phoebe discarded her pajama top in favor of a sports bra and tee-shirt. "Maybe we should call Cordelia."

"Over nightmares?" Prue shook her head. "This doesn't exactly qualify as supernatural threat and ..."

"And it is so less complicated now with you two apart … together? I forget which is it?"

"We’re figuring out some things.” Prue countered to which Phoebe only snickered. “I don’t know, Pheebs. She has other responsibilities. We aren’t her only priority, no matter how much she or I prefer that to be the case.” Prue shook her head, as though trying to rouse herself from retreading a very old internal argument. “The fact of the matter is that she was never going to be the girl that settled down with me in the manor, you know?”

“It's not nightmares." Prue and Phoebe looked up at Paige's unexpected entrance. She met concern with temerity.

"Paige, you haven't exactly been sleeping soundly." Phoebe replied.

"I know. But I ..." Paige shook her head. "These aren't nightmares."

"Then what are they, nugget? Just tell us and we'll do whatever we can to help you." Prue reassured. Paige’s nose wrinkled in wordless frustration at the childhood nickname.

"Visions. Memories, I think.". Paige swallowed, and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt the chill of prophecy. "I'm not dreaming, I'm seeing ... And it's terrible."

"But Paige ..." Paige shook her head discouraging Phoebe the most obvious rationale behind her argument.

"I know, I don't have visions." Paige shrugged, "Or I didn't until now."

"What do you see?" Prue asked with concern.

"Our deaths. The end of the Warren line. And Prue.” Paige turned haunted eyes on her sisters. "We are soon to be creatures of such terrifying power."

“So I’ll call Cordelia.” Prue muttered, visibly less than stoked at the idea.

“No.” Paige stopped her. “There’s someone else coming.”

“Someone else?” Phoebe asked, rolling her eyes at the vague quality of Paige’s sudden precognitive abilities. She wondered if her visions sounded so frail when she recounted them to her sisters.

“Yes,” Paige nodded, her expression becoming more certain as the chaotic imagery of her dreams began to make sense. “She’s coming to help us.” Paige turned, walking back down the hallway. Prue and Phoebe stepped out to watch her disappear into the bathroom. Phoebe pursed her lips and Prue chuckled, headed back to her own room.

“Night terrors, and vague morning premonitions, and somehow, she manages to yoink the first shower.” Phoebe shook her head.


	5. Please Read The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For author's notes and disclaimer, please refer to chapter one.

Roads

 

“I spent three years out on the road with Prue after my parents died.” Paige placed a bowl in front of Kara and a box of granola with an apologetic look. Breakfast tended to be slim at Halliwell manor. Not that Kara was complaining. Only she sorely missed cinnamon sticky buns and gingerbread lattes in the morning before work.

“Because of these Darklighters?” Kara watched Paige putter. She placed a latte pod in the Keurig and waited for the brewing cycle to finish.

“Yeah.” Paige fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. She didn’t seem to have gotten much sleep but had knocked on Kara’s door early in the same t-shirt and jeans she’d been wearing the evening before with promises of something resembling breakfast. “I was in the hospital and Prue came. My parents left very specific instructions that in the event of their death, my biological family should be contacted immediately.” Paige returned to the breakfast nook and placed a steaming mug in front of Kara while a second cup brewed.

“That’s …” Kara blew on her mug, a little extra oomph for the perfect temperature and took a healthy sip. She’d spent the night listening to the Halliwell sisters work through the ceiling. She hadn’t had much desire of sleep since she’d left National City. She didn’t look forward to the images that repeated in her dreams, mostly Astra unmoving on the concrete. And she saw Alex, the look she’d had in her eyes as she lied about Astra’s fate. It was too much.

“Weird, I know.” Paige shrugged. “The circumstances around my adoption were obviously unique. My parents were never very forthcoming. I know now things had been executed thus for my safety. At the time,” Paige got up to retrieve her coffee and returned with a look nearing bliss as she took her first sip. “At the time,” She repeated, her throat working as she swallowed, and humming immense pleasure. “There wasn’t really much opportunity to consider anything beyond how the next moment could be my very last alive.”

“That’s … wow.” Kara sipped at her coffee and watched Paige across the table. “Listening to you, it is as though the same author penned both of our stories.” Kara took a deep breath. “My parents died when I was twelve.” The wide-eyed expression of surprise that etched Paige’s face was soon tempered by curiosity as Paige listened with rapt attention. “They sent me to Earth I think so they wouldn’t have to see me die.” Kara paused realizing in that moment that the myth she had long clung to, had been created in those last moments as she said good-bye. Her mother wanted her to live, but not in order to fulfill a mission. Her mother had wanted Kara to live in order to save herself and Kara’s father both the suffering of bearing witness to the death of their only child as their world crumbled around them. Kara had believed so deeply in the sweet lie that had saved her life for so long. Spared so that she could be a hero on a planet that desperately needed one - it was the story a parent would whisper before goodnight kisses and promises of sweet dreams.

Kara blinked, feeling a sluggish transition into the present, even as the images of her past filled her thoughts. “My biological Mom gave me up to save my life. After my adoptive parents died, Prue took me away from the manor, and her sisters, and a life she was in the midst of living, to save my life. And now here we all are and sometimes it seems like a story we’re all telling ourselves while hoping for a happy ending.” Paige murmured paying close attention to Kara’s reaction.

“It does doesn’t it!” Kara’s eyes widened, a small smile creasing the corners of her mouth. “What brought you back after those three years?”

“Puberty.” Paige dead-panned. “I got my period and my powers within a couple of months of each other.”

“Yikes.” Kara could only imagine that adjustment.

“Tell me about it.” Paige snickered, then coughed as coffee nearly reversed course up her nose. “Prue says that having to co-exist with Piper and Phoebe through puberty had been trying enough and all of their powers were bound when they were kids. With me, my ability to orb was nascent, but my ability to cast had to develop.” Paige gave a self-deprecating smile. “I was awful for like two solid years. I genuinely believe that Prue considered giving us all up to darklighters every other day.”

“When your powers, and et cetera.” Kara blushed, gesturing at Paige’s very lovely et cetera with her coffee mug. Paige offered a vibrant smile in return. “Developed, why come home? Wouldn’t that just make you an even bigger target? I mean weren’t they ultimately hunting you because they were afraid of how powerful you might actually be?”

“The one thing I’ve learned, is that the Host fear our power.” Paige contemplated the milky surface of her coffee, mouth drawn in a firm line. “When I was a child, I couldn’t protect myself. But when I came into my power, my sisters and I together are …”

“Formidable.” Kara suggested. Paige met her gaze and nodded.

“Yes.” Paige sipped her coffee. “We quickly found ourselves at a loss for any reason to run.” Kara didn’t quite understand. It sounded the opposite of safe. Wouldn’t this only make an enemy more resolved in their mission?

“But you say these Darklighters still attack.”

“On occasion,” Paige smirked, the picture of nonchalance, “those dumb enough to attack take their chances. Suffice it to say I’ve lost count.”

“I doubt they have.” Kara murmured, concern obvious in her eyes.

“Even a decisive battle may not win a war.” Paige, leaned back in her chair, arms extended before her. Her long fingers, pale against the slate gray of her coffee mug, tapped in succession, a graceful wave that tugged hard at Kara’s attention. Something so simple and yet so enchanting, was this what the Halliwell sisters referred to as their Craft? Kara admitted, she’d felt an undefined sway, a conversion that seemed to have started at the pit of her stomach. It had crept, tingling along her spine, flushing her cheeks. “Generations before I was born, my ancestors fought the Host. And for many subsequent generations, we’ve struggled and survived. This war may never end, even with my life and the lives of my sisters.” She eyed Kara, considering, then, “We intend to live before we die fighting this war we inherited.”

“Amen.” Kara looked up, she’d heard the somewhat stealthy approach into the kitchen but paid it little mind, so caught up in Paige’s words and the determination behind them. Phoebe, who Prue called Mouth, bustled into the kitchen further clarifying the source material for the formulation of that nickname.

“Morning Pheebs.” Paige greeted. Already dressed, coiffed, and beaming at the early hour despite late night witch-related activities, Phoebe came over to place a kiss on the top of Paige’s head, snagging the coffee mug from between her hands.

“Morning Kid.” She sipped from the pilfered mug, her hum of appreciation nearly identical to that of her sister. Kara couldn’t help but smirk at the observation. “Got to get a wiggle on. I have a looming deadline. Don’t forget to finish up …” Phoebe gestured toward the ceiling, indicating no doubt their work in the attic. Paige nodded, watching her coffee disappear sip by sip. “Kara.” Phoebe winked, returning the mug to Paige’s hands, empty now save a minuscule puddle barely large enough to dampen one’s tongue. “Feel free to stop by the Bay Mirror if Supergirl has any interest in an exclusive.”

“Pheebs!” Paige appeared mortified. “That’s not why she’s here!” Paige reached out, a dozen apologies swimming in her deep brown eyes, to brush the tips of her fingers along Kara’s wrist. “Ignore her.”

“It’s okay.” Kara shrugged it off, accustomed to the reaction. Considering her boss … Kara drew up short. How the realization had not hit her until that moment, she dare not say. She’d left her phone behind at her apartment and not so much as sent an email requesting a leave of absence. Former boss was undoubtedly the more accurate term.

“See Paige, it’s okay.” Phoebe spun, calling over her shoulders, “Laters.” Out the kitchen door to the driveway. Kara could hear the click of high heels, and the light off-tune humming as Phoebe got into her car.

“I promise, she won’t press for any kind of interview. I know you must get that all the time.”

“Not as often as you’d think.” Kara could see the worry just short of panic in Paige’s eyes. “Really, it’s no big deal. We all have secrets right? I trust you and your sisters will keep mine.” Paige nodded in tacit agreement.

“Of course.” Paige glanced away, heaving a sigh. “There’s still a ton of work to do on the scrying spell. I’m taking a day off from work. Hopefully I can make a bit more progress than we made last night.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an intern at San Francisco Department of Child and Family Services. I’m finishing up my Masters in Social Work.” Paige replied. “You?”

“Nothing quite so impressive.” Kara cleared her throat, embarrassed. “In fact, I’m probably … fired.”

“Ah, well …” Paige floundered.

“I guess I had to work some things out and I didn’t exactly give my life notice before I left.” Kara sighed. “My boss is … well, demanding would be the nicest possible way to describe the intersection of expectation and caustic disappointment by which she governs her not so small corner of corporate society. Being her assistant is …”

“Are you happy?” Was it possible for someone’s face to be any more blank, Paige wondered at Kara’s reaction.

“I’m …” Full stop, Kara could not seem to manifest word nor phrase to address or dismiss the concept of happy as it applied to her life in National City.

“What did you want to do with your life?” Paige asked, immensely curious. “Before you became Supergirl, before you took this job as an assistant, what did you want to be when you grew up?” Kara looked away a moment, taking a breath, remembering.

“An artist. I wanted very much to be an artist.” Kara’s eyes wandered along the cupboards and the homey clutter of the Halliwell kitchen, they at last settled again upon Paige whose scrutiny didn’t feel like the dismantling of the Supergirl/Kara construct. It didn’t feel like voyeurism. It felt only like concern. “And no, I,” Kara bit her lower lip, astonished that yet again she felt the pinprick of tears in Paige’s presence. “I don’t quite remember the last time I was happy.” Paige let the moment be. There weren’t any adequate words between strangers in a moment significant as much for what was clearly left unspoken.

“I could use a hand today, if you want to help.” Paige spoke softly, wanting what she offered to sound like what it was, company not pity.

“What about Prue?” Kara sniffled, rubbing absently at her nose.

“She’s probably already in the basement.” Kara arched a brow. “She’s a photographer. It’s her studio.” Paige nodded at the basement door, closed but behind which Kara could make out stairs. Increasing her degree of awareness to the sounds coming from the basement, Kara could hear the mumble of up to the minute news on National Public Radio and Prue’s own voice a whisper, talking absently. Paige’s eyes narrowed. “You’re listening to her now aren’t you.”

“She’s making a list. You guys are almost out of milk and she’s reminding herself to buy some before … apparently Phoebe might have kittens. Congratulations?” Kara grinned. “I know, you’d think I’d be a hit at parties, alas not so much.” Paige chuckled.

“So, crash course in the Craft, afterwards a bite of lunch? I’ll take you to my favorite sandwich place.” Paige got up extending a hand. It was an adorably chivalrous gesture, Kara thought, considering. She placed her hand lightly in Paige’s own. She’d expected Paige to give a tug, supposedly helping Kara to her feet. Instead she felt the tickle of Paige’s magic and nearly giggled at the sensation. Reposited instantly in the attic, Paige offered a wink. “Faster than a speeding bullet, huh?”

 

 

Really?

“Okay we’re probably not just here for the special.” Paige confessed as she opened the door and gestured for Kara to proceed her into Pies Piper’d Patisserie. Kara offered Paige a, No Shit, look as she passed into the simply decorated Parisian-style bakery. Aside from the three P’s, the woman standing behind the counter glaring death their way was abundantly featured in the family portraits Kara had observed back at the manor.

“I’m feeling peckish.” Paige rubbed her hands together as she strode forward with her eyes on the menu. “I’m thinking a couple of the specials, maybe pain au chocolat and coffee?” Kara side-eyed Paige trying to gauge whether or not the angry flush quickly spreading across Piper Haliwell’s features should be considered a threat. If the abilities she witnessed demonstrated by the Halliwell sisters thus far were any indication, Kara thought it might be best to keep a plan for escape in mind.

“Paige, maybe …” Kara hedged.

“Croque Monsieurs and a lovely cream based leek soup. clearly the special is a no brainer.” Paige insisted. She smiled wide, tilting her head and meeting Piper’s gaze full on. “Bring it to my regular table.” Paige gestured towards a two top in the restaurant’s front window. “Chimay if you have it. Water for my friend she’s impervious to alcohol. Cheers!”

“You can’t possibly be serious.” Kara muttered, trailing Paige to the table she’d chosen. “You don’t actually come here regularly, do you.”

“Every Wednesday.” Paige replied slipping into the booth. She watched Kara sit, then fidget uncomfortably, eyes straying to the front counter every other moment. “Oh calm down.” Paige smirked. “She’s not going to turn us into toads or anything.”

“What does she do, when you come in on Wednesdays?” Kara inquired, trying to settle into the niggling feeling on the back of her neck that she was the impending target of a very angry and very powerful witch.

“She serves the special.” Paige grinned. “I always get the special. Piper is a genius in the kitchen. Apparently Phoebe and Prue haven’t had a decent breakfast since she moved out.”

“I’m sorry.” Kara shook her head, utterly confused. “Help me understand.”

“Okay,” Paige huffed mild impatience. “Piper is a very talented witch. Her strength, in addition to her active powers, is potions. We’re going to need a very complex potion for this scrying spell. Hence …” Paige raised her hands as though to say, Voila.

“Have you never tried to engage Piper thus prior to now?” Kara inquired. Somehow Paige’s plan seemed a bit far-fetched.

“Oh yes of course, I ask her to come home every Wednesday.” Paige nodded easily. From what Kara had seen, these regular visits didn’t seem to be having a positive impact.

“I take it she hasn’t responded very positively.”

“Actually, she doesn’t respond at all.” Paige made a comic ‘Eeek’ face. “She drops the check and I head for the door before she starts foaming at the mouth and haphazardly shooting spells.” Paige paused nodding. “And yes, one time she started shooting spells. But only after I’d finished lunch which was amazing by the way. She really is incredibly talented. She attended the California Culinary Academy.”

As if summoned by their conversation, Piper appeared bearing a tray of soup, sandwiches and their beverages. The pain au chocolat were conspicuously absent. Piper set out the food and drinks then unceremoniously dropped a billfold on the table that no doubt contained the check. She spun on her heel, looking as though she was fully prepared to flounce when Paige cleared her throat.

“So Pipes, I know we’ve got some hard feelings all around about you letting Leo take me to my death and Prue trying her damn best to kill him, but bygones, right?” Paige winked at Kara across the table who only shook her head in disbelief. “Right?”

“Paige.” Piper didn’t turn. Her voice was just barely audible over the ambiance of Edith Piaf singing from the restaurant’s tastefully engineered sound system and the assembled sounds of other patrons conversations. “I shouldn’t have to warn you, but I will since you seem to think it appropriate to bring an audience for this folly you’ve undertaken.”

“Folly?” Paige made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded a bit too much like mocking to Kara’s ears. She watched the muscles in Piper’s forearms tense as she squeezed her hands into fists.

“Paige.” Kara warned, shaking her head subtly. “I wouldn’t.”

“She’s fine.” Paige stage whispered behind her hand, plenty loud enough for Piper to hear. “She grew up the middle child. High strung, you know.” Piper whirled, brown locks lifting, to hover, sparks igniting at the ends. Her eyes had fully dilated, until the whites were swallowed under a chilling, fathomless black.

“Okay, see Paige that’s not a positive sign in my albeit uneducated opinion.” Kara murmured, looking around anxiously for an emergency exit that would not require her to out herself to a restaurant full of strangers.

“I told you she’s fine.” Paige repeated, eyes narrowed unwavering on Piper now. “High. Strung.” Kara could only characterize the sound that next came out of Piper’s mouth as a yowl, not unlike a screeching but very close to the sound a predator might loose as it charges.

“Oh … okay.” Kara put her hands up in as nonthreatening a gesture as she can manifest. She went for her Eliza Danvers, calm the girls down before this screaming match in the back of the car turns into a death match. “Hey there, friends. Let’s all just be so cool right now.”

“Yeah Pipes, be cool.” Paige cosigned, leaning back nonchalantly in the booth. “Cause you know I can take you.”

“Nuh uh, no. No.” Kara shook her head, making a shushing gesture Paige’s direction. “The smack talk, not cool, Paige.” 

“Don’t worry, all of this.” Paige gestured at Piper’s body as it rose, hovering toward the ceiling, and the sparks that had been generated at her extremities were now becoming bolts of lightning striking with random violence and explosive effect around the restaurant. Much to Kara’s surprise, none of the other patrons, in what was a fairly busy lunch hour, seemed to be taking any notice … at all. “This is what happens when a witch doesn’t practice her craft. She gets all pent up. It makes for an entertaining display of fireworks but not much else.” Piper raised her arms, whirling balls of energy forming from the palms of her hands.

“Paige.” Kara murmured, simultaneously entranced and concerned.

“Pipes.” Paige’s voice grew stern. “I won’t warn you again. Calm yourself down or I’ll do it for you.” Piper’s head dropped back, flames leaping from her lips, and spreading across the ceiling of the restaurant. “Oh for crying out loud.” Paige brought her palms together sharply, the sound rang above the manic destructive force of Piper’s display. Kara watched Paige’s fingers dance an intricate ballet in a blink as she whispered, “Essere calma contenuta.” Paige added comically, “And I sincerely mean have yourself a seat!” Piper dropped motionless to the floor. The flames dissipated, the lightning bolts ceased, Edith Piaf sang, and lunch proceeded as though nothing had ever been amiss. “Always with the unnecessary melodramatic hullaballoo! Why she has to go straight to the nuclear option every time, setting her own gosh darn restaurant on fire, I’ll never understand.” Paige shook her head in exasperation. She huffed out a calming breath, giving herself a shake for good measure, as though that alone could recover the calm that had been ripped away by Piper’s manic tantrum. 

“Is she?” Kara asked eyeing Piper’s prone figure on the floor.

“Taking a little nap. Poor pookie, she must be tired.” Paige turned back to focus on the spread of food in front of them. “Well, no reason to let lunch go to waste.” She took a bite of her Croque Monsieur, closing her eyes and humming in devout appreciation. “Oh my goodness, I think I just …”

“Paige!” 

“Of course.” Paige muttered, opening her eyes, to gaze wearily at the latest addition to their afternoon out. Kara looked on wide-eyed at the man who had manifested in a frenzy of twinkling lights much in the same manner that Paige bopped about and referred to as orbing. “Kara this is Leo, the asshole that orbed me to Muir woods in the middle of the night intending to kill me when I was twelve.”

“Uh, hi?” Kara greeted, after all Eliza Danvers insisted polite was always suitable in any circumstance. No reason to ever forget one’s manners.

“You are not welcome here!” Leo placed his hands on the table, leaning pointedly into Paige’s personal space.

“Leo. Pal.” Paige murmured softly eyes on her sandwich as she took another bite, chewed and continued to off-handedly address the man fuming inches from her face. “I just finished putting your girlfriend down for a nap. I am more than happy to lullaby another toddler if I need to right now. ‘Kay Punkin? Okay. Grown folks are talking. Go play.” She reached over to grab her beer only to have it knocked out of reach and summarily spilled across the table. Paige sighed, placing her sandwich back on its plate.

“So what I’m hearing you say is that you want another limp.” Paige turned, wry smile at the ready. Leo, proud man that he clearly was, did not flinch. 

“You seem to forget, abomination, it wasn’t you who gave me the first one.” Leo straightened, using his notable height to loom over the table, its occupants, the world.

“I certainly don’t need Prue to give you your next honorable mention, whitelighter.” Paige raised her index finger, her right hand just barely hovering over the table. Leo took a step back, his eyes locked on Paige’s hand. Kara watching the entire exchange had to admit even she had felt the urge to shrink back a hair at the subtle move from Paige. A fairly impressed smirk seemed to be fighting for dominance on her otherwise shocked face. “You know what, I’ve lost my appetite.” Paige tilted her head, shrugging whimsically. She got to her feet, gesturing for Kara to proceed her to the door.

“Leo.” Paige paused, casting a hard gaze his way. He had stooped over Piper, checking to make sure she was breathing. Paige waited until she had his undivided attention. “Tell your girlfriend to be at the manor tonight by eight or I’ll stop by and try the special tomorrow and every day until she does.” Leo opened his mouth to respond. Paige made a swift sweeping motion with that lone finger and whispered, “Cessare.” Leo coughed as though truly choking on his very own words. “Ah ah ah, pal, you hush.” Paige place a finger against her lips shushing him. The look in her eyes was not nearly as light-hearted as the eerily pleasant smile that graced her features. “For once, you think rather than speak. Don’t forget now. Tonight by 8.”

“You’re a little scary.” Kara whispered as they walked away from Pies Piper’d Patisserie.

“Yeah?” Paige smirked in Kara’s direction, seemingly unconvinced. 

Kara nodding emphatically, confirmed, “Oh yeah. I’ve never seen a grown man scared of a finger before, not that one at any rate.” Paige laughed out loud. The tension of the last few moments reduced to levity. “You and Leo, bad blood, huh?” Kara didn’t intend to pry but, there was always a story. Rather than hide it, Paige seemed like the girl willing to tell.

“In a manner of speaking.” Paige gritted her teeth a moment, remembering. “I was a kid. He fully intended to kill me. Prue shot his shiny ass into the trees and left him walking with a limp before he had the chance.” Paige forced herself to relax and muttered, “You know he posed as their friend for years before the car crash, my parents death, before me. Leo got into Piper’s head, convinced her that his mission was worth the sacrifice of not just her family but also her birthright.” Paige made an indistinguishably sorrowful note, humming softly. “Piper was a formidable witch, nearly as powerful as Prue.” Paige toed a pebble down the road as they walked side by side. It was a quiet street, no traffic. It felt peaceful, almost like they had the whole world to themselves 

“He made her turn away from the craft.” Paige straightened her shoulders, glanced at Kara hoping to convey how deeply Piper had been changed. “What you saw in there is what happens to a witch under whitelighter dominion, weak and complacent, sedated to do as she is bid. They’re less than slaves and that is how they want all of us, if not dead anyway. They’re cruel and manipulative and succeeding in creating untold generations of zombies out of once formidable witches since time began.” Paige sighed, “My mom was one; and now he has Piper.” They drifted into silence, strolling peaceably. The afternoon was overcast, cool, but not raining, pleasant really. Kara threaded her arm through Paige’s adding a bounce to their collective step. Paige offered a lopsided grin. 

“I know all this must seem crazy.” 

“Well ...” Kara extemporized, tilting her head. Flashes of Krypton, the Phantom Zone, Fort Roz interrupted her thoughts long enough to justify a shrugging, “What’s crazy really?”

“Exactly.” Paige mustered a grin. “So, I know this amazing taqueria that as it turns out is not owned by an estranged Halliwell sister, if you’re still up for lunch.” Paige offered, raising her brows and biting her lip in a hopeful smile. Kara gave their linked arms a quick squeeze, tilting her chin to the road stretching before them.

“Lead the way.”

 

Estranged Bedfellows

 

Paige popped her head out of the front door to the manor. She eyed the figure seated on the stoop with admitted surprise. Paige observed a moment in silence. Piper embodied the quiet, the watchful, as the last pale streaks of twilight swallowed into night, auburn and orange and yellow disappearing from the sky but beginning to glow in the windows of their neighbors. “Hey Pipes!” Paige greeted as last, she tried to play down the false enthusiasm with a genuine smile of welcome “I know you couldn’t get in right? It’s not the locks. We warded it. Nobody wants to get slaughtered in their beds over here, if you know what I mean?” Paige cleared her throat, and murmured under her breath, “You know since you went psycho and started cosigning that prick’s murderous agenda.” Paige opened the door wide. “Come on in.” Gesturing for Piper to come inside, Paige noted that the glare hadn’t exactly tempered since the afternoon; but at least Piper appeared well-rested. Note to self, Paige mused. “Thanks for stopping by, I see Leo passed along my message. And you’re early to boot, how conscientious of you. I recognize and appreciate your effort.” Paige winked.

“Whatever you want Paige …” Piper started, and by all appearances Paige guessed was gearing up for quite the hefty monologue. And cue self-righteous diatribe in ..., Paige thought rolling her eyes.

“Pipes, I’m going to try really hard tonight, not to lose my patience and muzzle you.” Paige interrupted, her gaze forthright if not kind. “I would ask in return that you keep all of that …” Paige gestured at Piper’s general face area. “in check. M’kay? Great!” Paige offered a thumbs up. “Glad we had this little chat. I feel closer already. Bonded, you know?” She breathed deep as though taking in fresh mountain air, and exhaled. “How about you?” It was difficult to tell if Piper had just withdrawn to imagine a place where Paige writhed in absolute agony, or had actually tuned out all of the sound in the foyer. She did seem a bit like she was just watching Paige’s mouth move, as one watches the action play out in a silent movie. Paige raised her eyebrows waiting patiently for a response. When none was forthcoming, she simply smiled, wrinkling her nose. “Precisely. Shall we?”

In the kitchen, Prue and Phoebe had already gathered most of the essential ingredients for the potion. Paige figured there was no point arguing about it all. They’d spent thirteen years trying to convince Piper to denounce the dark side. It had all been said ad nauseum at some point and tonight none of them were particularly keen on wasting more time. Piper could return to her yolk should she so choose after she’d lent her expertise to the present enterprise.

“Piper.” Prue nodded, keeping her expression neutral. Piper sneered, unrepentant as ever. “You’re looking … well ....” Prue cleared her throat. Denying one’s craft tended to cause premature aging. Piper was looking right prehistoric around the mouth and eyes. 

“Hey Piper.” Phoebe greeted, making a fair attempt at a meaningful exchange. “We miss you. I miss you.” Piper rolled her eyes, opening her mouth for a snide reply then thinking better of it as she caught a glimpse of Paige practically shimmying in premature glee out of the corner of her eye.

“Pretty please?” Paige whispered. Piper whirled on her youngest sister, eyes flashing. Paige’s unique ability to goad only further rankled Piper’s ire knowing that once, not so long ago, she’d possessed sufficient power to wipe the smirk from Paige’s face. 

“Hey there childish, kindly go upstairs and finish working on that spell please.” Prue snapped before either Paige or Piper could launch into an argument that would derail any possibility of progress. Prue nodded in the direction she expected Paige depart with zero argument. The one thing Paige had learned, growing up, don’t argue with Prue’s mom face. Phoebe and Piper were raised by Grams. Paige hadn’t had that relatively benign pleasure. Grams was sweet. She solved arguments by baking cookies and giving hugs. Prue had inherited custody of a pre-teen at twenty-five. By the time Paige was at an age wherein one might consider teenage rebellion, Prue had a well-developed mom face. Even if Prue was Paige’s legal guardian, she was still technically an older sister and suffice it to say, Paige had quickly learned the consequences of testing Prue’s authority. 

“Fine.” Paige mumbled, slinking off. They could hear her grumbling halfway up the stairs even from the kitchen. 

“That girl.” Prue closed her eyes and rubbed at both temples, thumb and fingers of her right hand working in concert. Phoebe snickered and even Piper almost managed an amused smile.

“Grams used to get that same look every time she caught you sneaking in around breakfast after staying out late.” Piper murmured, eyes softening at the memory. She gazed around the kitchen as though she could picture the very scene. Grams sipping coffee while pretending to read the paper at the breakfast bar. Phoebe would be engrossed in the back of her favorite cereal box, alternately munching away. Piper would have been scrambling eggs and whipping up golden batches of pancakes while surreptitiously glancing at the kitchen door, willing Prue to arrive with a halfway decent excuse, a once in a lifetime excuse.

“Listen.” Phoebe drew Piper further into the kitchen with a gentle hand between her shoulders. “We need you to brew.” Piper closed her eyes, shaking her head. There was a sadness in her refusal that felt nothing like defiance.

“You know I can’t. I don’t have that magic anymore. I gave it up.” Tears leaked from Piper’s eyes and she looked upon her sisters as she once had before they’d been thrown into opposing sides of this arcane war.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Piper.” Prue shook her head. “You can’t give up the craft and it can never be taken away. It’s in you, moving through your lungs, streaming through your veins.”

“You just have to tap into it again.” Phoebe encouraged. She gestured to the amalgam of ingredients waiting for Piper’s hand. Piper could not deny there was a calling, a thing that wanted to come alive, seeded and nurtured by that which lay before her.

“I can try.” Piper whispered, stepping closer to the kitchen island to run her hands over the ingredients. She could sense the power being demanded by this work. It was potent. It would be a challenge to construct this brew, a test of her capabilities before her absence, certainly moreso since she’d lapsed. She spared a quick glance to her sisters, silent, watching. “I’ll need help.”

“You have it.” Phoebe replied, adding, “Always.” Prue met Piper’s gaze sagely. She nodded her agreement.

“Always.”

 

“Wow. Uh, you okay?” Kara asked tentatively. Paige had stormed into the attic, mumbling under her breath. Kara’s super hearing gifted her with a few phrases she couldn’t say she’d ever heard in conversation.

“I’m fine.” Paige grunted, stomping over to the podium holding the Halliwell family grimoire. She shoved fists into the pockets of her jeans so they stood out under the fabric like two lumpy balls on her hips. She scuffed her toe against the well-worn wood of the attic floor for a few moments while she breathed deeply and gazed at the pages of the open book without really seeing the words. Kara had admittedly indulged in a bit of snooping through the contents of the attic while the sisters held their potentially disastrous family reunion downstairs. It was very organized for what had probably once been a storage space. There were rows upon rows and shelves upon shelves of books and bottles and jars. Every single item was alphabetized or sorted by some hierarchy not readily recognizable by Kara’s eye, and most of it was labeled in the same exacting penmanship. It was a very well-kept and extensive library at the center of which stood the podium where Paige was currently fuming or pouting.

After winding her way through the stacks of the Halliwell’s library, Kara had taken her rest at a long oak table situated under a lovely stained glass window. She’d found a large family album thick with photos and was pouring over the pictures when Paige had arrived in her huff.

“This is all really quite impressive.” Kara remarked, her gaze wandering again over the well-ordered bookcases that filled much of the attic space.

“Thanks.” Paige turned away from the grimoire to offer Kara a chagrinned half-smile. She paced over to the table and gazed over Kara shoulder at the album. Kara recognized that Paige wasn’t in any of the pictures. Most featured young Prue, Piper and Phoebe with an elderly woman.

“That’s Grams.” Paige leaned close over Kara’s shoulder to point to a picture. Kara stilled, feeling the tickle of hair against her cheek. Kara couldn’t account for the resulting distraction, the involuntary turning of her head as her nose chased a fragrant herbal note she couldn’t quite place under that chestnut curtain where she could discern the steady pulsation and warmth of …

“Kara?” She blinked, realizing she was looking directly into Paige’s very concerned, very large, brown eyes.

“Hmm?” Kara hummed, absently licking her lips. Paige had a light brown constellation of freckles just on the tip of her nose that Kara was in the midst of counting when she received a flick on her own.

“Hey, no wandering off.” Paige smirked. “I may need an assistant.” Kara cleared her throat, turning her attention back to the photos in the album.

“Sorry.” She apologized, voice squeaking. Kara mentally shook herself. “You aren’t in any of these pictures.” She turned to the next page, saw the progression in time in age, the still life story of the Halliwells.

“As far as my sisters knew back then, I didn’t exist. The memory of our mother’s pregnancy was bound for Piper and Phoebe much like their magic had been when they were very young. What Prue knew, she’d been sworn to such secrecy, she buried it deep like a trauma. Then our mother died and since Grams wasn’t apt to spill the beans … poof, out of sight out, of mind.” Paige drew up a chair so she could sit at Kara’s elbow. She’d seen these pictures before. In fact, when Prue had at last brought her home to the manor at the end of their long journey on the road, Paige had spent hours peering at every photo she could find. There were so many pictures of them all, Prue, Piper, Phoebe, Grams, and Patricia, her mom. Paige had gazed, trying to capture inside herself the moments depicted. Birthdays, graduations, births, and even deaths with photos of headstones. She couldn’t insert herself into a history from which she’d been excluded, but she could absorb it, claim it as her own.

“The crash, I would have died too had it not been for …” Paige raised her hand over the table and made it momentarily dissolve into those curious twinkling lights. When her hand had reincorporated, she tucked it around the crook of Kara’s elbow. Kara held her breath watching Paige who gazed at the photos, chin resting in the palm of her other hand. Kara had never met anyone so at ease with herself. The way Paige slouched against the table, practically leaning into Kara, her posture, the blatant physical connection familiar and friendly without any agenda, made Kara feel a not entirely unpleasant tingling of nervousness and simultaneously as though it were completely natural. How else would they sit and share stories, the memories in this photo album?

“Prue says there was a spell linked to me from birth, not unlike an alarm. When the Matthews died and I was injured in the crash, it alerted the next line of defense put in place to protect me.” Paige wiggled her nose and winked at the album causing Kara to giggle in delight as the pages in the album flipped randomly before settling towards the back. There was a picture of a very lanky Paige, maybe fourteen, nearly as tall as Prue though perched piggy-back and grinning like mad. It looked like they were at a dusty, run-down gas station next to a stretch of road in the desert. The sun was bright in the photo, enough to fully illuminate their features. Prue’s grin was broad as Paige’s, but there was worry wrinkled in the corner of her eyes. 

“Check this out.” Encouraging Kara’s continued attention, Paige whispered, “Venire alla vita.” She blew a soft, steady breath across the page, and Kara watched in amazement as the photo came to life. Fourteen year old Paige squeezed her arms tightly around Prue’s shoulders, turning her head to plant a sloppy kiss on her sister’s cheek. Prue made a hugely exaggerated yuck face, rolling her eyes while Paige laughed. The camera angle tilted, swinging away from the sisters. Kara caught glimpses of other parked cars and mountains in the distance before the frame was filled by the face of yet another dark haired woman. In large, mirrored sunglasses and a wide, floppy sun hat, she looked like a model undercover from the paparazzi. She had a gorgeous smile that flashed only momentarily before the camera swung back and the action began again as if on a ten second loop. 

“That’s Cordy.” Paige let the loop run a few more times before whispering, “Arresto.” The photo returned to the still picture of Prue and Paige. 

“Is she another Halliwell?” Kara inquired of the woman who had presumably taken the photo.

“No.” Paige shook her head. “She’s like my guardian, I guess.” She glanced at Kara shrugging. “Some things we’re still trying to figure out. She’s not one of the Host, not a whitelighter or darklighter, and definitely not a demon. But she has power like nothing my sisters or I have ever seen.”

“How do you know she’s …” Kara struggled a moment, looking for language that wouldn’t sound terribly accusatory. “Well, your ally?”

“I’d know if she wasn’t.” A slow smile stretched across Paige’s face, and for a moment Kara was caught in what appeared to sparkle deep in Paige’s brown eyes. She only felt herself released, as it were, when Paige blinked. Kara breathed deep through her nose trying to puzzle through what just happened. Paige tilted her head knowingly. “Let’s just say, I have a gift for determining when someone is attempting deception.”

“I see.” Kara swallowed, looked down, away. Focusing on Paige’s light pink nails poking out from the crook of her elbow, Kara thought for a moment. “That’s why you brought me here. You knew I wasn’t … evil?”

“I knew you were Supergirl.” Paige wrinkled her brow in wry amusement. “And you seemed like you needed a taste of home, even if it wasn’t your own.”

“Oh.” Kara mumbled. It was undeniable, she had been feeling maudlin and lonely and homesick on that rooftop trying to figure out where exactly home is. She missed James and Winn, and Alex. Rao, she ached for Alex every moment. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to go back, not yet.

“When Prue met Cordy, she introduced herself as Carlisle Coble Social Worker.” Paige continued, picking up right where she’d left off. “We didn’t learn until later that her real name is Cordelia Chase. Carlisle Coble licensed social worker with San Francisco Child and Family Services exists, but is ultimately an identity Cordy had to create to gain access to my file and make sure that Prue would become my legal guardian.”

“How could she know she’d have to do that, unless …” Kara let the thought hang unfinished, trying to puzzle out the answer on her own.

“That is probably the easiest part of all of this.” Paige lifted her chin off her hand to reach into the neck of her blouse and pull out a small pendant on a long chain. The pendant was cast from a not readily identifiable metal and appeared very old, the symbols worn down so that they barely rose above the surface. It gleamed in the light, seemingly winking its power at its observers. It was vaguely familiar to Kara, the metal, the symbols. She’d seen something like it once, long ago as a child. She couldn’t quite place where though. “Carly, or Cordy, was drawn to this.”

“What does she say it is?” Kara asked reaching out. She glanced into Paige’s eyes, “May I?” Paige nodded, their fingers brushing as it slipped into the palm of Kara’s hand. It gave Kara a jolt, the energy tripped from the tips of her fingers rocketing through her body at the contact.

“Cordy swears she hasn’t the slightest clue what it is but when I ask her where it came from ... Sometimes, I’m not sure I believe her. I think maybe she might know deep down and can’t entirely remember.” Paige shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the mystery. “She’s always said simply that it called to her that day, the very moment of the crash. In an instant she was just pulled, orbed right to my side. Prue says there is magic embedded that drew on my power in order to summon Cordy. Much like I might summon a box of cookies from the kitchen right now.” Paige’s face went thoughtful and Kara nodded. Cookies, definitely. Paige extended her hand. Knowing now what to expect, Kara could sense a change in the atmosphere, the buzz of energy and a flicker as though reality was wrinkling around them. An unopened package of Thin Mints appeared on the table, bringing with it a residual chill from the freezer. 

“Phoebe spends all of her money on wine and Girl Scout cookies.” Paige grinned, letting go of Kara’s arm to tear into the box. Kara immediately felt the absence of the hand that had been nestled so familiarly. She let go of the pendant, gently, watched it swing into place above Paige’s cleavage, drawing Kara’s attention to a smattering of light brown freckles just above the swell of Paige’s .... Paige cleared her throat and Kara blinked, accepting a cookie that she hoped hadn’t been sitting under her nose for more than a second.

“Thanks.” Kara tried to ignore the hoarse quality of her own voice and shoved the entire cookie into her mouth. Paige quirked a brow in appreciation placing an whole sleeve of cookies into Kara’s hands.

“So yeah the paramedics come,” Paige continues between bites of cookie, “and Carly, Cordy, says she’s just a good samaritan who happened upon a wreck and called 911. She convinces the paramedics to let her accompany me to the hospital. Not a hard sell when you think about it. I was hurt and alone. My parents …” Paige paused blinking at the pain of that memory, an ache that never really seemed to fade. She swallowed, skipping forward over the hardest part. “Uh yeah, so Cordy has this friend in London. Willow, she’s a self-made practitioner of the craft who works for this super secret society that call themselves the Council.” Paige makes semi-sarcastic quotes with the fingers of her left hand, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “Anyway, Willow is coincidentally a computer whiz, a.k.a. hacker. Cordy sends Wills a text and by the time we reach the hospital, she’s Carlisle Coble licensed social worker with San Francisco Department of Child and Family services and I’m her client.” Paige shrugged, matter of fact. “The rest is mostly history. Carly called the manor and Prue came to my rescue.” 

“But how did you end up on the road for three years?” Kara crunched into a frozen thin mint, licking chocolate off her fingers.

“Well, after Piper handed me over to Leo, Prue didn’t think it safe to return to the manor.” Paige’s gaze drifted away, pulling her back into those old memories. “She carried me out of the woods and stuck her thumb out on the side of an empty road in Marin County. She was this complete stranger but I felt … connected to her, like the first thing I could ever remember was the feeling of being near her.” Paige bit her lip, trying to give the words more sense. “I don’t truly know how to explain that. I just wrapped my arms around her neck, and held on tight cause she felt like home, and as much as I loved my parents, I’d never really felt that before.”

“It’s okay. I know.” Kara replied. She placed a hand on Paige’s arm and squeezed, hoping to convey her understanding. 

“Do you?” Paige asked. She gazed into Kara’s eyes, with that pull she had, that charge and sway. Kara let it happen, let herself fall away, sinking into it until her head felt light and fluffy. She smiled, dazedly, blinking as she surfaced to Paige’s indulgent grin. “Woah there, missy.”

“What …” Kara exhaled mouth wide, “is that?” She closed her eyes and licked her lips, savoring the remnants of chocolate and mint on the tail end of such lusciousness. “It feels so …”

“Sometimes people get a little contact high.” Paige laughed, watching ecstatic glee transform Kara’s features into a bright shining beacon for a moment before easing back towards neutrality.

“I’ve never been high. I can’t be, my Kryptonian …” Kara’s mind drifted mid-sentence as she peered at Paige through barely open slits of drooping lids. The tips of Kara’s eyelashes appeared to paint Paige’s face with the sublime brush strokes of a Renaissance Madonna. Kara smiled in appreciation, watching the light of the moon through the stained glass warm Paige’s pale cheeks. “Are you … enchanting me somehow?”

“A little.” Paige conceded. Under any other circumstance, Kara might have been alarmed; yet she found herself somehow endeared to the youngest Halliwell.

“Tell me the rest.” Kara murmured. She crossed her arms on the table and rested her head so she could look up into Paige’s eyes, watch the movement of her lips glisten in the soft light, round then wide, then pursed into a heart-shaped kiss.

“First car that pulls up,” Paige continued, reaching out to brush a stray hair out of Kara’s eyes. “The window rolls down and it’s Carlise Coble, LCSW.” Paige chuckled. “Did I mention it’s pissing rain and freezing and Prue just looks at her for like a solid minute as if she’s deciding which spell she’s going to use first.” Paige shook her head, thinking back to that moment, hanging in the balance. “Maybe Prue is as skilled at divining truth as I am. I don’t know. I’ve seen her pick out a servant of the Host at a distance in a crowded shopping mall.” Paige shrugged. “It’s not just a healthy level of paranoia at work. I know that much.” Paige’s thumb absently traced a soft line along Kara cheek. Kara blinked languidly, breathing deep. Paige smiled, tucking her hand back into the crook of Kara’s arm, her fingertips inches now from Kara’s lips. She could feel each soft breath, as Kara settled into a sedate in and out. “You may be shocked to learn she didn’t do anything.” Paige’s brow quirked as if to say, yep, you heard me. “No questions, she opened the door and slid into the front seat, holding me in her lap.” Paige remembered that moment vividly, the sudden, delicious warmth of the car. She’d opened her eyes and seen Cordy for the first time. There was no danger in her. Paige could feel the power, but not that deeply ill feeling that made her nauseous when she’d been around the man Prue had called Leo. “She drove us away, safe into the night and we didn’t look back.”

“Definitely not a Social Worker.” Kara murmured.

“No, not at all, but absolutely the reason I became one.” Paige contended. “I’ve always wanted to do what she did for Prue and I that day.” She squeezed Kara’s elbow with affection. “Save somebody’s life who desperately needs it.”

“And you just drove for three years?” Kara’s brow furrowed, her expression sympathetic. She’d grown up in a stable home. She’d left Midvale, gone to college and moved to National City where she’d worked the same job for four years as Cat Grant’s assistant. In all of her life, she’d only lived four different places, and visited few more than that since taking residence here on Earth.

“No actually,” Paige replied, “I mentioned Cordy’s hacker friend Willow and the Council. They spend their time conducting research, tracking and recording the activities of the Host, and assorted other potentially harmful entities that serve the Host. They have the most comprehensive library on the face of this planet. It makes the Library of Congress look like an elementary school media center.” Paige gestured to the shelves that had captured Kara’s interest. “That’s how we managed all of this. After about a year crisscrossing the continental US, Canada, Mexico, South America, we finally had an opportunity to settle down. Cordy convinced the Council to allow Prue access to their libraries for research into the Host and we ended up spending two years in London.” Paige’s face reflected the memory of that relief. After a year of living in motels, sleeping in the backseat of the car, listening to uneven highway pass underneath its wheels, London had been a refuge. 

“Up to that point we didn’t really have much in the way of reliable information. Everything Prue knew she’d scraped together on her own and so much of it was heretical. Rumors on the internet and stories passed along from random strangers we encountered, and too much misinformation that whitelighters had been disseminating for ages.”

“What was London like?” Kara asked, genuinely curious. She hadn’t travelled very far from first Midvale then National City before now. She had a ravenous curiosity about the world that had gone mostly unfed.

“Honestly, I didn’t get to see much of it. I was practically sequestered. Prue spent the year researching and consulting the Council on the craft. Ultimately, they’re librarians and their level of practical knowledge was minimal at best. Prue was a huge resource for them.” Paige beamed proudly. For a moment, Kara wondered if that was what her own face resembled when speaking about Alex. “Meanwhile, with Prue so busy, I was conscripted into an apprenticeship of sorts. Wills insisted that research was clearly going to save my life and that I needed to learn how to build and maintain the resources for myself that would continue to keep Prue and I alive.” Paige nodded as though reading Kara’s mind. “Yeah, it’s as hard as you imagine that sounds. I spent two years under Wills’ very strict tutelage. I learned about the craft. I learned history. I learned Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics - all very important to the craft by the way.” Paige gave Kara a sober look that held none of her typical levity or sarcasm. “Polished my Spanish from the conversational bits I’d picked up while traveling that first year into fluency, and I learned to read and write Greek, Latin, French, and Italian. Wills even gave me a cursory knowledge of coding so that I could spend my time on the internet wisely ... that is hacking into libraries for research purposes.”

“Sounds far more comprehensive than my high school education here on Earth.” Kara murmured, thoroughly enjoying the sound of Paige’s voice as she spun this tale of her adventurous life.

“Before college, my education was what you might call eclectic. Of course my official records state that I attended high school in the bay area, was a straight-A student and an avid participant in student government.” Paige winked. “I came into my power in London and by the time we left, Prue believed we were ready to go home.”

“Were you scared?” Kara asked, imagining how it must have felt going back to a place where her life had been so endangered that they’d had to flee with no more than the clothes on their backs. Paige took a deep breath considering the question. She dug deep, trying to remember exactly how she’d felt that day boarding an international flight at Prue’s side. They’d had to petition the State department for passports and the process had been difficult at first. Willow had helped with documents to explain their presence in London. The trip over, flying under the radar had been much easier with completely forged credentials. But going back Prue had insisted they needed things to be official so they could fully reclaim their life in San Francisco.

“I think terrified is a suitable adjective.” Paige recounted, though still unsure. “I remember we were in Heathrow and I kept having to go to the bathroom. I guess I had a nervous bladder.” Paige laughed as the memory resurfaced completely. “I couldn’t go alone, just in case and after about the fifth or sixth time, Prue completely fed up tells me to stay put. She leaves, comes back a moment later with this smoothie. Strawberry and banana and something I can’t quite tell what …” Paige lets her words dwindle into a loaded pause and Kara sits up at last, her mouth rounding into an exclamatory Oh.

“She didn’t!” Kara shook her head in disbelief.

“To this day, I haven’t the slightest idea how she got me onto the plane. I just remember waking up draped over her lap as the captain was announcing our descent into San Francisco.” Kara guffawed and Paige couldn’t help but join in her amusement. “Welcome to the Bay Area.” As laughter settled into amused smiles Kara couldn’t help but prod for more of the story.

“And when you got here, to the manor?”

“Empty.” Paige replied. “It had been for three years.” Confusion clouded Kara’s face so Paige proceeded in her explanation without prompting. “Phoebe was eighteen when my parents died. Apparently when Prue and I disappeared, she split for the east coast. She was …” Paige paused, sadness and guilt tracing her features. “angry, understandably. Prue hadn’t reached out. She just took me and left. It truly hurt Phoebe. Neither of them has completely gotten over it.” Paige sighed. “When we got home, Phoebe was the first person Prue contacted. There was maybe a month there that I was sneaking and listening in on screaming matches between the two of them over the phone. Then out of the blue ...” 

Paige smiled remembering that first time she’d opened the door and seen Phoebe on the stoop with a suitcase and cocky grin, Hey Kid. Paige recognized her from every picture she’d seen in the manor. Squealing excitement, she’d launched herself into Phoebe’s arms. Already half a head taller than her older sister since her most recent growth spurt, Paige had nearly tackled Phoebe down the front steps. All she could think was how stoked she was to have Phoebe available to ask questions about their mother and the craft, conveniently avoiding consideration of how pissed Prue would be when she found out Phoebe had spontaneously materialized back in their lives. Prue tended to be a bit uptight about things like unannounced visits from family members.

“She came home.” Kara finished Paige’s sentence with a confident guess. Paige nodded, pleasure at the memory of meeting Phoebe for the first time brightening her features. “And Piper?” Kara asked, not sure how sensitive Paige was when it came to the subject.

“Prue tracked her down nearly our first day home.” Paige frowned, the soreness of the subject acute in spite of Paige’s efforts in securing Piper’s presence currently downstairs in the kitchen. “Piper and Prue were very close growing up. Best friends.” Paige looked down at the table and Kara could sense more of the guilt she’d seen cross Paige’s face when talking about Phoebe. “While Prue and I were away, Piper had opened the Patisserie and moved into an apartment situated directly above it. Prue thought she could convince Piper to put the past behind them and come home. Suffice it to say that conversation did not go as she planned.” Kara just quirked an eyebrow in question, not bothering to voice the obvious inquiry.

“Prue insisted I stay home. When she returned,” Paige’s lips twisted into a smirk that was ironic if Kara had ever seen the like. “she wouldn’t talk about it.” Paige shrugged, shaking her head as if to say she truly did not know. “She’d been crying.” Paige offered as possible evidence of what may have transpired. “That’s it. That’s all I know.” 

“So when did you start having the special of the day once a week at the Patisserie?” Kara asked.

“The very next day.” Paige grinned, “And every Wednesday since for oh … seven years.” Kara gazed at her shocked. “Yesterday wasn’t the first time I had to put Piper to sleep, trust me.” Paige snorted, humor brightening the shadows of sadness from the corners of her eyes.

“Seven years.” Kara repeated in shock. Paige might just be the most persistently tenacious stalker in history.

“Shouldn’t you be working on a spell and not bragging about your less than honorable exploits to … who are you?” Kara’s eyes darted, landing on the three remaining Halliwell sisters clustered in the doorway to the attic. Piper was regarding her with, well not suspicion or even wary consideration. Kara had seen a similar look on Ms. Grant’s face often enough. Ah yes, dismissal.

“Piper, hi.” Kara greeted, trying admirably for a smile but lacking the warmth really just managed an anxious, lopsided kink in her cheek. “I guess this afternoon can’t really be considered a formal introduction. My name is Kara Zor-El.”

“And? That should mean what to me, exactly?” Internally Kara nodded, ah yes, that was the quintessential Cat Grant dismissiveness.

“Honestly Piper, you’re barely home five minutes and already pissing in the corners.” Paige muttered darkly. A sharp look from Prue seemed to arrest her attitude. Paige crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly the embodiment of a chastised sullen teenager. Phoebe walked over to join them at the other end of the table where a clutter of worn notebooks opened to pages full of the obsessively neat block-writing a clear match to the labels organizing the library. Post-it notes with the same handwriting littered the wall, and held places in several haphazardly stacked volumes. Phoebe glanced over it all, her attention focusing on a handful of loose leaf pages. It was the work Kara had watched and sometimes helped Paige complete earlier that morning. Phoebe peered over the pages making a noise of distinct approval in the back of her throat.

“This is great work, kid.” Phoebe glanced up at Paige, pride obvious in her smile. “I’ll tighten it up a bit and it’ll be good to go.” Kara watched as a blush lifted along the fine line of Paige’s cheekbones. Paige noticed Kara’s scrutiny and looked away, her cheeks growing several shades darker.

“And the brew?” Paige asked, looking to Piper and Prue. They had moved to the podium to flip through the grimoire.

“Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?” Piper tossed over her shoulder, landing a knowing look between Paige and Kara. “Like we can’t smell the mesmer thick as it is up here and halfway down the attic stairs.” Phoebe snickered, covering her mouth in a fairly ineffectual attempt to disguise her amusement. Seeing the look on Paige’s face, Phoebe sobered and quickly returned her attention to the work for which she’d just finished lauding her little sister.

“Seriously Piper?” Prue huffed rolling her eyes in exasperation as she stepped away from the grimoire. She stationed herself unsubtly between Piper and Paige as though to interdict any conflict. Paige, for her part, seemed surprisingly stoic or perhaps contemplating whether or not to launch some form of retaliatory action. She sat perfectly still, and but for the rapid pulse Kara could detect at her temple, seemed calm. Prue cleared her throat looking pointed from her youngest sister to their guest and back again.

“Perhaps you two should get some air. Clearer heads and all.” Prue gestured towards the outside via the stained glass window, with a conciliatory, “It’s such a pretty night.”

“Fine.” Paige agreed in a tone completely void of emotion. She rose to her feet and extended her hand to Kara. Her eyes were kind however and she managed a small, self-conscious smile as she asked with polite aplomb, “Would you join me for a walk?”

“Check out the manners on the …” Piper grunted as Prue slammed her hand down over the pages of the grimoire, gaining Piper’s full attention. With little more than a firm shake of Prue’s head, Piper appeared adequately convinced not to finish that sentence. Kara slid her hand into Paige’s, enjoying the rush of energy she now recognized as characteristic of such contact between the two of them. Standing she met Paige’s eye and even matched that brilliant smile watt for watt.

“I’d love to.” Kara couldn’t help the shy hitch that snuck into her voice as her heart gave an unexpected kick. 

“No rush kids, brew’s going to be a while. It’s a lot more complex than expected and we need to do a little bit of research.” Phoebe grinned, reaching across the table for the box of Thin Mints. Finding it empty of all but crumbs, she leveled an expectant look Paige’s way. Hand in hand halfway across the attic towards the door, Paige didn’t even halt their progress as Kara caught the distinct tinkling of Paige’s magic and the arrival of a fresh box on the table.

On the way down the stairs, Kara could hear Prue heatedly arguing with Piper, in spite of their significantly lowered voices. Phoebe chimed in only to remark how cute Kara and Paige had looked snuggled up together sharing secrets. Kara blushed, wondering what exactly Paige’s older sisters believed had been happening in the attic before their arrival.

As they wound their way out of the manor and into the cool night air, Kara had to agree with Prue’s assessment of it being a pretty night. Her sense of proprietary seemed to be at odds with the decidedly romantic atmosphere as she and Paige commenced to stroll idly. Her head told her to retract her hand from the lovely, tingling warmth of Paige’s. But her inclination was to draw closer, perhaps even tight under Paige’s arm. She settled for the relative neutrality for leaving things as they were, a little distance but for the firm clasp of their hands.

“So what exactly did Piper mean by mesmer?” Kara asked, discarding any pretense that she might ignore that little scene in the attic. Thanks to her heightened senses, she could see the blush rising yet again and quite rapidly this time from Paige’s chest and up her neck to explode across her face.

“Uh …” Paige studiously avoided Kara’s gaze, eyes trained forward along their path. A neighbor walking her dog passed, nodding her head in silent greeting. Paige waited until the woman was out of earshot and all around them was quiet but for the scuffing of their respective footwear along the sidewalk.

“Come on Paige, spill it.” Kara urged bumping her shoulder into Paige’s. “No judgment here, promise.” Paige risked a quick glance, a shy smile blooming at Kara’s kindly earnest expression.

“Mesmer is part of what I do naturally. We call it active power like my ability to orb, translocation of objects which is a slightly different power than Prue’s telekinetic abilities. I inherit my orbing from my biological father rather than our mother. Uh, but anyway ...” Paige swallowed, her free hand coming up to nervously twirl a long strand of hair around her index finger. “Truth divination is what we call it or psychic reflection sometimes.” Paige bit her lip, “What you felt upstairs, that was the result of me scanning the surface of … well, you. Deception has a very unpleasant taste. It seeps from people and I discern it as a heavy, sticky tar on my tongue. Evil also is a very potent flavor that makes my stomach roll about and burn like food poisoning.”

“Okay,” Kara ventured, still not quite understanding. “But your sister said …”

“I .. I know.” Paige interrupted, uncomfortable at the very thought of Kara repeating it. “Uh, sometimes when I’m scanning someone for whom there exists a significant physical attraction that might be mutual …” Paige let the thought settle for a moment until she heard the sharp intake of breath indicating Kara had caught up. “These side-effects, such as that high you felt, may occur. We call it mesmer to connote this very unique correlation of cause and effect. In some situations a far more potent physically erotic side-effect may be …”

“Oh my!” Kara slapped a hand over her mouth, gazing a Paige in absolute mortification then murmured from behind her palm, “Are you saying that for your sisters walking into the attic after you’d scanned me was like ... “

“Like you walking into an enclosed space sans ventilation with your sensory perception turned as high as it goes directly after someone has enjoyed vigorous and multitudinous sex acts?” Paige offered and shook her head ruefully, “No, try a thousand times worse.”

“Okay that’s admittedly a little embarrassing.” Kara had never truly adapted to the social stigma and tendency toward repressing sexual urges that seemed to be so deeply ingrained in human society. Sexual freedom on Krypton was not even a topic worthy of consideration as it was just natural. People pursued physical gratification and loving bonded relationships with the same autonomy that they breathed the air for all intents and purposes. On Krypton historically, there had never been an equivalent interest on an institutional level of regulating something as individual and instinctual as the myriad other physical processes of everyday life to which society could claim no influence. It had always seemed so … well, alien, the way humans behaved in these matters. Their need to control what was beyond regulation, beyond intervention, was, barring any better characterization, absurd. That being said, the idea of Eliza Danvers being intimately privy to … well what Paige was essentially describing was not high on Kara’s list of experiences she’d soon entertain. 

“I can’t even ...” Paige shook her head unable to formulate the words necessary to tie a bow on the subject. She much rather pretend that she and Kara had not in fact just been walked in on, for all intents and purposes, by Paige’s entire family.

“It’s okay. I get it and I’m fine with it. You should be too.” Kara grinned, “By the time we get back … ?”

“The supposed air will have cleared significantly.” Paige confirmed with a relieved sigh. “And I’ll be more careful in the future. I wasn’t expecting … I mean” Paige shrugged, feeling admittedly tongue-tied. “I thought you were cute. I hadn’t intended to magically seduce you or anything. At the very least I would have asked you out on a date first.” She chuckled, glancing at Kara sheepishly.

“I …” Kara couldn’t deny the conflict of making connections when she felt like she was meandering through limbo. “I would have liked that.” Following her instinct, she pulled closer, to tuck herself snugly under Paige’s arm, their fingers still hooked together over Kara’s shoulder. Contented, Kara sighed. It was a surprisingly sound fit. “I would have said yes, if you’d asked me.”

 

Cornerstone

 

Kara couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the time spent strolling at Paige’s side on such an ethereal night. They’d spent hours talking, though Kara hadn’t been quite ready to delve very deeply into her life or the impetus that had driven her away from friends and family. Paige willingly opened up to Kara’s gentle prodding.

“Our magic is created by us.” Paige explained. “We are the tools of its creation and not the other way around.” At Kara’s confusion, Paige endeavored to elaborate. “Piper isn't making potions that have been utilized by other witches. She's brewing entirely new ones. The intent of her potion-making is to generate a very specific effect, like a dart on a dart board if we imagine the universe as the board.” Paige smiled, seeing budding comprehension in Kara’s eyes.

“Piper has to syphon just the right amount of energy from each ingredient or from the interaction of several ingredients. The energy she pulls exists in a non-reactive phase as the potion. Think of it like a battery storing a very specific degree of potential energy waiting to be tapped. That energy is meant to sustain the effort of the spell.”

“And the spell itself is Phoebe's purview?” Kara asked, adding, “With your help?”

“Yes but truly Phoebe is the author.” Paige nodded. “Much like the way Piper is creating a combination of very special herbs and spices, Phoebe is combining an equivalently special selection of words of intent. Her words don't have to generate power so much as focus it.”

“Wait you don’t just say words and make things happen?” Kara grinned, her question clearly facetious. Paige rolled her eyes. “But isn’t that what magic is. I mean otherwise, wouldn’t you call it something else, like say … Science?”

“Alright I get your point.” Paige smirked. “May I continue?” Kara gave a nod in the affirmative though it was easy to read the irreverence remaining in her expression. “Phoebe's talent is that very often she can author in an instant, as she’s speaking. Without the aid of a potion, what’s actually happening in that case is that she is redirecting a bit of power from that which exists freely in the world around us as light or heat or the chemical energy of a living body, or a physical change of state.” Paige nodded meaningfully watching Kara’s interest build. “Think, for example, about how much energy is released as the water that covers this planet evaporates into gas. It is a vast and open repository for someone like Phoebe.”

“You say you’re not as naturally adept at either brewing or authoring, but what about at the Patisserie?” Kara asked. Paige hummed her comprehension, impressed that Kara had picked up on that.

“There are spells and potions that already exist, much like the one’s we record in our grimoire. Witches have been brewing and authoring and recording these efforts throughout history.” Paige extended a hand before her, as though telling someone to stop, then turning her wrist brought the tip of her index finger and thumb together while her other fingers closed to her palm in a cascade. “The gestures I make with my hands draw energy much as a potion would and the phrases I speak are the spells, old spells with existing intent” Paige flattened her index finger and thumb together so it appeared as though she were holding something compressed between. She drew her hand slowly downward, and suddenly pushing her thumb and index finger apart in a flicking motion. As she did this she whispered, “Leggero in fiamme palla.” A perfect sphere of liquid light, blue like the core of an accelerated flame, settled in the palm of Paige’s hand. It shone, chasing the shadows surrounding them far into the distance. “You need both a perfectly exact amount of energy to pair with each spell. One without the other is useless.” Paige let the sphere hover above her hand. As she slowly closed her fingers into her palm, bringing the tip of her index finger and her thumb together again, she whispered, “Spegnere.” The orb winked out of existence leaving them again in darkness with the exception of the occasional street lamp and the distant stars above. 

“Did you know that some of the oldest spells are hidden in our everyday speech? Old colloquialisms, songs, poems, words whose origins are old enough that their etymology is murky at best, all of them reposit magic.” Paige continued with growing excitement for her subject. Kara couldn’t help but be pulled in, her interest suitably piqued. “But when we utilize these words and phrases in our innocuous conversations with each other, their true meaning and power is nullified. They are unintentioned, powerless without an energetic infusion.”

“And Prue?” Kara asked. “What is her ability?”

“Ah, well Prue is a very powerful witch.” Paige bit her lip nodding significantly. “If you think of the spell, the phrases as a heuristic, instructions for the performance of work and the potion is the energy that will be drawn in order to do the work, what's left?”

“A machine or a function to convert work and energy into product?”

“Physics whiz!” Paige exclaimed, demonstrably impressed.

“You do realize I come from a highly advanced alien society capable of intergalactic space travel?” Kara deadpanned. 

“Oh yeah, of course. You make it so easy to forget when you look like you just walked out of a gap ad.” Paige gave the sleeve of Kara’s hoodie a playful tug. 

“I'll try to remember to wear my wobbly antennae headband and rainbow suspenders in future.”

“Mork and Mindy, really?” Paige chuckled to which Kara could only shrug.

“It's the first television show my best friend Winn and I binged together on Netflix after I came out as Supergirl.” Kara tried to sublimate the painful reflex at her own mention of home. There was such knowing sympathy in Paige’s eyes but there was little enough strength Kara could muster to talk about the countless reasons why the very thought of National City felt so catastrophic.

“So um,” Paige hesitated to break the momentary silence. She watched as Kara diligently packed her feelings away to present an expectant gaze.

“Prue is the machine?” Kara asked prompting Paige to finish. 

“Uh yes, though I can't truly begin to explain how it works.” Paige drew a thoughtful breath. “Metaphorically, it's a bit like weaving. Yes.” Paige latched onto this approach, quickly winding back up to the excitement with which she’d spoken thus far. “Prue takes the instructions and the energy and our combined effort when we stand in a place of power meant to focus the craft to manifest this action through our willing it, and inside of her is this loom that weaves it all together into the product.” Paige smiled widely, nodding as if she found this acceptable to her own ears. 

“The manor is built upon a place of power that focuses our craft. There are many other places like it in the world, all of which are situated along what are referred to as ley lines.” Paige gestured animatedly, as though picturing the entire world spread out before them. “Somewhat like the lines of latitude and longitude we refer to in global positioning, these lines are actually stitched into the fabric of the Earth like the fault lines between tectonic plates or like the magnetic poles. Ley lines link the flow of the energy throughout the world. There are places where that energy is magnified and places where it is drained.”

“Then through these ley lines, all of us, living beings truly are connected.” Kara ventured.

“Exactly.” Paige looked into Kara’s eyes with unchecked pleasure and for a moment, Kara could imagine Paige leaning in and brushing their lips together. That would have been magic. Seemingly as soon as the thought crossed Kara’s mind, Paige was turning away, her explanation continuing rapidly forward. “When we scrye, searching for things, it's like we're googling those ley lines and we receive all the likely possibilities of locations. If those locations aren't warded we can probe them even at great distance to determine what they are, match or no.” Kara nodded putting it all together

“This is what you’re preparing to do now, with the spell and the potion.” 

“Yes, and all told, it can be a lengthy process including the elimination of unlikely targets.” Paige ticked off scenarios, with one hand, dexterously touching her thumb to each finger. “Scrying can take days or even weeks depending on how many locations we have to probe. The probe itself may require more energy brewing and spellcasting. And of course, there may be warded locations to consider.”

“What happens if the location is warded?” Kara asked.

“Well, in our experience warded is often a jackpot. But we spend a lot of time chasing demons so a jackpot approach may not apply in a case by case basis.” Paige backed up a bit, sensing Kara’s confusion on the point. “Wards are loosely defined as magical protection against onslaught or incursion. If we scrye and find we can't probe a location because it’s heavily warded, a quick process of elimination tells us it is likely that this is a place significant to our search. That is to say if we are entrenched in the process of searching for something or someone magical. Likewise we can determine it is not the place if we're just looking for where we might have left the car keys.”

“So now, with the spell and the potion, you’ll scrye, possibly iteratively, until you eliminate all unlikely targets and settle on a place where you are fairly certain the Asgardians have settled here on Earth.”

“Exactly.” Paige sighed contemplatively. “The three of them together are what’s called Charmed. They are a perfect triad of the craft. Their individual active powers operate independently, but their true talents are shown in the interplay of their innate abilities. There are ancient prophecies about them and what they can do. It’s astounding.” 

“What about you?” Kara asked. “If your sisters are Charmed, then why are these Darklighters so intent on killing you?”

“Well, there are prophecies about me too. But that’s a different story.” Paige shrugged.

“The family fairy tale?” Kara remembered how odd Phoebe’s turn of phrase had sounded. Kara hadn’t felt like they’d wound their way to the end. She hadn’t yet heard a happily ever after.

“Something like that.” Paige offered a lopsided grin.

“One day soon, I hope you should like to finish telling it.” Kara hinted. “Especially if it starts Once Upon A Time.” 

“It would be my pleasure.” Paige replied, then casually added, “Maybe one day you’ll have a story to share too.” As they wound their way back toward the manor, she realized she felt an obligation to be forthright having basked so long in Paige’s openness. It had been invigorating to feel for once so soundly that she wasn’t being deceived or manipulated. She’d been puppeted and pushed about like a pawn. So long at the mercy of the machinations of those wily enough to exploit her innocent nature. She would take a step forward toward restitution.

“I ran away.” Kara whispered, then unsure whether Paige had even heard the confession opened her mouth to repeat it.

“I heard you.” There it was again, Paige’s uncanny ability to read so deeply. “Do you want to tell me why?”

“My sister likely thinks it’s because she killed my Aunt, the only family I had left who shared a true connection to the life we had on Krypton.” Kara swallowed, glancing at Paige, she tried to discern some reaction to this revelation.

“And why is it in actuality that you ran away?” Paige had certainly developed the calm and neutral expression that encouraged clients to disclose without feeling judged. Kara looked long and hard, searching for something so very specific in Paige’s demeanor. Perhaps Kara found it. Paige considered as much as she watched Kara’s hesitance dissipate.

“I killed my Aunt’s husband.”

 

Second to Non

To humans moments are fleeting. Kara often tried to embrace this concept of time’s fickle relation to mortality. Sometimes she held her breath, waiting to feel time as a finite commodity. She hadn’t propositioned time to preserve the life edging away from Astra In-Ze, begging thoughtlessly. It would have brought shame to her aunt’s last moment had Kara surrendered to human sensibilities, pleading for time to bend, to yield, to halt.

“All soldiers hasten to a good death, little one. At last, Rao has seen to mine.” Those were the words Astra would have spoken, the words Kara read as the light dimmed in the General’s eye’s. Kara had no tears left to shed. Her whole life woven by grief, she dutifully acknowledged that another loved one was at peace. 

At the DEO Alex hovered, expecting Kara to crumble. What would happen if she had? What sedative would silence her screaming if she let herself be torn from reason only now after this? Instead Kara sat idly in Alex’s lab. She observed her sister’s deft movements examining the tech that had been recovered. It seemed innocuous enough. Kara could feel the hum of energy radiating from it. Non had inadvertently revealed an usher to his intended battlefield and Kara had settled upon a means by which to end these blindly groping attempts to thwart Non’s efforts. 

When Alex slipped away, right back she’d said. Right back was five minutes at best. Three hundred seconds wasn’t a moment, fleeting or otherwise to Kara as she listened tracking her sister’s steps. In these granite halls even hushed conversations echoed to ring in Kara’s ears. Thus by the time Alex returned to lab, with that persistent concern and fear quickening the steady rhythm to which Kara had listened since her arrival on Earth, three hundred seconds had stretched. It wasn’t an eternity but as to time, it was more than enough. 

“Hey, ready to go home?” Alex asked. Kara nodded, willed herself to look into those eyes she held so dear knowing now there were abundant deceptions to share. And if perhaps Kara hadn’t returned the enigmatic little electronic box to sit exactly as Alex had left it, perhaps at least so small an oversight might escape immediate notice.

“This,” Kara had intoned, in need of only one answer. Attention divided, she could hear distantly her sister whispering confirmation of the first lie Kara hadn’t believed the moment it fell from human lips. “There is a signal emanating from it, correct? Tell me how to track it.” In the simulation room that housed a very poor approximation of Allura In-Ze, Kara made the most of a single fleeting moment and the time-altering gift of supersonic speed.

 

It was easier than Kara imagined, to gain entry to the base of operations from which General Astra had stoutly led her army. Non was almost welcoming if not suprised. Perhaps he had anticipated Kara’s intentions.

“Kara Zor-El,” When Non spoke, Kara could see it was solely for the benefit of impressing the soldiers filling Command and Control. Astra’s body had been placed on a console, blood staining the glowing surface of the equipment. Upon it she shone like a deity, at rest as opposed to felled by a mortal death and bathed in the light of eternal worship. Astra’s congregation, loyal and devout, not stricken by loss, but proud, honored by the gift of her sacrifice.

“What was it she called you?” Non chuckled, preening for his audience, the uniformed men and women who’d served Astra on Krypton and now at the end of her life. “Little ..." Kara snapped his neck before he had the chance to expel breath and finish his taunt. The soldiers watched in silence as she stepped carelessly over Non’s lifeless body to stand as though before an altar. Bowing her head in solemnity, she regarded her aunt’s remains.

"I am Kara Zor-El,” Kara’s voice pierced the quiet. “Last daughter of the House of El.” Her eyes traced the features of her aunt’s face in commitment to one final memory, interned it amongst so many other dead. “I will not command you to kneel.” She paused, giving in to the ebb and flow, the magnetism in her voice as those gathered were compelled to listen. “But to my command,” Kara turned at last away from death to look upon the ranks, an army of Krypton’s only remaining sons and daughters. “You shall yield.” There would be no dissent, Kara knew but did not assume that some few might not question her authority. Likewise, there would be those soon to join Non in an honorless death. Kara clenched and unclenched her fists, relishing the feel of this newfound solidity at her core and this campaign she would measure. She would lead for this was her due. She alone would inherit. 

“For these men of Earth, the eyes are windows, and for their gods they are doors. This is why, sons and daughters of Krypton, when the gods that govern humankind close doors, these frail men scream, sob, and cast shades to hide their horror, that they are alone in the universe.” 

Kara gazed upon her army, bore her teeth, and laughed heartily. “Mourn your General. Await my return." Kara cast a disdainful look at Non's body, adding with sneering disgust, "And dispose of that." She strode from the room, and smiled pleased that these corridors echoed too, resounding with shouts, a magnificent uproar.

“Kara!”  
“Kara!”  
“Kara!”


	6. Please Read The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For author's notes and disclaimer, please refer to chapter one.

Wherein our protagonists meet their enemies in battle.

 

“Consider the institution of religion, how it develops from inspiration to collective belief to a social system. The Craft has been made synonymous to other religious systems in that it starts with a powerful symbol. In similar fashion that the most patronized world religions formulate around a prophet, the Craft is predicated upon the existence of The Warren, The receptacle of all magical knowledge, that is the symbol from which the Craft develops over time into a system of belief. Witches and Wizards, those who so devoutly believe in this symbol, are not all naturally imbued with power. There are those who begin with belief and over time and with practice the symbol transforms what was once an intellectual exercise into a demonstration of true power.” 

“Aunt Wendy, what is this and where did you get it?” Ingrid asked paging through the type-written dissertation length volume she’d found on the kitchen table. 

“Ah!” Wendy grinned, pouring herself a cup a coffee. “That is a master’s level thesis written on Thermodynamics and the Craft.” Ingrid’s mouth worked for a moment as though searching for sound.

“Who would … I mean besides my history of witchcraft in East End, an academic paper on actual magic?” Ingrid shook her head in amazement. “It’s well-researched, sound.”

“A Social Work student at UC San Francisco. She hasn’t published yet.” Wendy came to sit down at the table sipping from her mug. “Let’s just say I’m getting a sneak peek at her work.”

“Well it’s incredible, obviously. But how could she possibly have this kind of information.” Ingrid found it dubious at best that a mortal could have accessed the world of the Craft so indiscriminately without being silenced or worse.

“Oh, she’s a witch - young, brilliant, and very powerful.” Wendy seemed to be enjoying Ingrid’s confusion immensely. “Go ahead and give it a read and I’ll pass along any notes you think might be helpful.”

“She cannot possibly intend to defend this?” Ingrid shook the volume before her as though shaking sense into either her aunt or this … Ingrid flipped back to look at the author’s page, Paige Halliwell. Ingrid blinked, any concern for the consequences of such publications brushed from mind for an instant. That name was so familiar. “Aunt Wendy …” Wendy just winked, getting up to leave the table.

“Let me know what you think.”

 

Simultaneously, 3000 miles away

I know you said the number would fade after I contact you. Does that include text?  
Of course. Flying?  
Yeah, I’ll be there in like 15.  
Should you be texting?  
It’s not like I’m operating a vehicle.  
Right.  
So?  
We’re still working on it. So many possibilities to eliminate. By the way, I’m sending you a link to my thesis. It puts an even more scientific spin on some of what we discussed last night. Thought you might enjoy it.  
Sounds good. I’ll have a look at it when I land. See you soon.  
Be safe.  
Always.

Kara stopped off on the way to Halliwell manor for donuts. She figured the sisters would appreciate the energy boost. The kid behind the counter had asked her if she was picking up for her office. Kara had given him a quizzical look and he’d explained they offer delivery within a five mile radius. She supposed three dozen would seem excessive to anyone who hadn’t shared a meal with Kara or the Halliwells.

While waiting for the order, Kara re-read her texts with Paige, smile bright on her face. Minutes ago, she’d left National City feeling the hefty weight of what lay ahead; and now here she was, giddy. She felt like she was being split down the middle, two different people: neither one particularly like the other. Maybe she didn’t mind that so much. 

She clicked on the link Paige had sent. It was a PDF file of a paper titled Thermodynamics and the Craft. Kara rapidly skimmed the first few pages. 

“On a subatomic level the world is held together by intention. Intention can be swayed, manipulated, subverted. Three atoms intend to converge and transform gas into liquid but if that intention is subverted, their convergence may be slightly altered to give forth a solid instead. This subversion is signaled by a change in temperature indicative of a change in the kinetic energy of the molecules causing a realignment of their convergence. Be slow instead of fast, be here instead of there, all possibilities exist simultaneously. What we perceive is determined only by what we intend and is never fixed.”

Reading the paragraph over again, she hadn’t truly considered how bold the brilliance of the youngest Halliwell sister until this moment. Did Paige intend to publish this work? If she did, what response could she expect from enemies and allies alike? Kara had taken time to read up on the Host. They seemed keen to punish those who threatened their authority and in that their anonymity.

The Host, also known as the Elders or Powers That Be, were the highest council of heaven whom all angels serve. The longest on-going claim of the Host was that they created men though they did not create angels. Angels were simply a separate caste, perhaps a lesser species. There were three types of angels, all subservient to the Host.

There are those that came to be known as Dark Lighters. These were fallen angels who refused to respect or acknowledge the necessity of man and thus were cast out of heaven. Though they defied the Host they accepted their punishment and did the penance of being cast out for eternity. 

There are also those who came to be called White Lighters. These were angels who were in good standing in heaven. They followed all directives of the Host without question, though on occasion a Whitelighter might fall due to temptation.

Finally there are those known as the Grigori or more commonly, the Watchers. Their story is told in the Book of Enoch. It was told that they became lustful of mankind and wished to take earthly bodies and marry wives. This was thought to be a serious violation for which they were harshly judged. They did not accept their judgment because they believed in truth that they were following the duty laid out by the Host to love mankind. In further rebellion, they decided to give men divine knowledge and power. And they chose to produce offspring with mankind. These acts were thought to be a far greater offense than that of the fallen angels who simply chose not to worship men out of arrogance and perceived superiority. Thus the Grigori were sentenced in absentia to death along with their offspring. 

The offspring of the Grigori came to be known as the Warren. A name meaning enclosure, literally referred to a receptacle for knowledge and power "stolen" from The Host during the great war in Heaven. These offspring of the Grigori soon were seen as the keepers of forbidden magic. Thus it became the directive of the Host that Darklighters assassinate key members of the Warren in order to further serve their penance. Whitelighters too were given a directive. They were to infiltrate, manipulate, and control key members that they may ultimately lend aid to the mission to eradicate the Grigori and their descendents.

It was all human mythos and yet disturbing for how closely it held to the lives of the women Kara had so recently befriended. Had an ancient conflict between two houses traveled so far from her galaxy to become all out war on this planet? On Naltor, much like Krypton, Earth would have been thought of as primitive, even today. But so many millennia ago, how easy would it have been for those feuding Naltorians to convince humankind of their inferiority? How easy to declare themselves, Gods. 

“Miss? Your order’s ready.” Kara blinked, deftly pulling herself from the inkling of something so very seductive, hovering at the edge of conscious thought. 

“Thanks!” She tipped the clerk and collected the bags, stomach rumbling at the looming promise of sticky buns. Bags hanging from the crooks of each elbow, she thumbed a quick text.

Almost there. Stopped for snacks.  
Mmmmm, snacks.

 

Prepare

 

“Maybe we’re just going about this wrong.”

“What do you mean, how else could we go about it? It’s scrying. This is how we’ve always scryed.” Piper muttered, dropping the scrying crystal in frustration. She glared at Paige expectantly. 

The attic grew stuffy in the afternoons, particularly with four exhausted witches spending every moment working diligently on what was proving an impossible errand. The sun shone bright through the stained glass window, striking the center of the pentagram they’d etched on the attic floor. Candles lit at each of the corners flickered and motes of dust could be seen hovering in the still air. At the center of the pentagram they’d placed a world atlas, opened at present to a detailed map of the United States.

“Hold on Piper, let’s just hear her out.” Prue intervened before this turned into yet another argument.

“Well, let’s think about it. What resource aren’t we using?” Paige twirled a lock of her hair and bit her lip thoughtfully. 

“We have the potion.” Phoebe shrugged sticking to the obvious. “And the spell.”

“And the Power of Three.” Piper concluded, gesturing to Phoebe, Prue and herself. “Seems what we have is an excess of supposed resources, actually.” Piper gave Paige a pointed look which either went ignored or missed entirely. 

“What are you thinking, nugget?” Prue asked, placing a hand on Paige’s shoulder hoping to ground her little sister, bring her back from whatever theoretical space had captured her imagination.

“Prue!” Paige whined, blushing profusely. Kara had only just wandered downstairs to take a phone call. The idea that super hearing might be privy to her childhood nickname was beyond embarrassing. Prue suppressed a grin, unable to help her amusement at how awestruck her baby sister had quickly become of this latest stranger to enter their lives. Kara had certainly made a good impression arriving this morning laden down with gourmet donuts from that cute, new place in the Castro. The gesture had certainly convinced Phoebe that Kara was always welcome at the manor. Paige had grinned and blushed and all but giggled while stuffing herself silly and filling Kara in on their progress. Piper had watched in sullen silence, picking over a donut she didn’t actually eat. 

Prue wasn’t holding out hope that Piper’s reticence might evolve into a complete change of heart. This was a temporary truce, even if Prue caught the occasional smile of delight as step by step Piper rediscovered her craft. Outside the manor walls, Leo was waiting. Too long ago they’d all chosen sides.

“Yeah Prue, don’t embarrass the kid.” Phoebe chastised, then whispered loudly behind her hand. “There’s a hot girl downstairs and Paige wants to …”

“Oh my … Shut. Up.” Paige’s brow wrinkled, her mouth pursing tightly as she looked from Prue to Phoebe in horror.

“Oh … oh no, that’s your stress face, kid. You have to clear that up before she gets back up here.” Phoebe’s eyes widened in amusement as she watched Paige turn an alarming shade of red.

“Do you remember when she turned seventeen and she had that date with … what was his name?” Prue snapped her fingers trying to remember then …

“Thompson Tilman!” Prue and Phoebe chimed in unison.

“Oh my goodness, good ole Tee Tee, she was so in love with him!” Phoebe exclaimed, laughing. “Remember she used that spell to write his name on the inside of her wrist and then broke out in hives because she was allergic to the fennel in the brew.”

“Then the stress face because he was on his way to pick her up and there she was covered in hives and Hydrocortisone Ten.” Prue guffawed. “And when I got home early so I could give the guy the third degree, I saw his name on her wrist and thought it was a tattoo.”

“And she kept telling you it wasn’t a tattoo but couldn’t get the reversal spell to initiate.” Phoebe placed the heels of her palms against her eyes trying to stem the flow of tears. “And of course you completely lost it.”

“In my defense, it looked real.” Prue clutched her stomach, snickering. “When Tee Tee showed up I told him that convincing a seventeen year old girl to get your name tattooed on her body was a dick move.”

“Poor guy. He was so confused in his tie and his blazer, and his insistence on calling you Ma’am.” Phoebe shook her head, “Unbelievable. I think he was like the president of the Math club.”

“Captain of the Chess team.” Paige muttered, breathing heavily. “And you two know she can hear you right?”

“Aw, nugget.” Prue pulled, Paige into a clearly unwanted hug. “Don’t be so broody. That’s worse than your stress face.” 

Phoebe closed in on the other side, giving Paige a peck on the cheek. “And we love you, love you, love you so much!” Paige rolled her eyes, squeezed uncomfortably between Prue and Phoebe. She wondered when exactly her older sisters would acknowledge she was no longer a child.

“Ugh, too much.” Piper grimaced, eyes averted from the frivolity. The look on her face seemed less angry than it was uncomfortable. “Can we get back to work, please?”

“Yes work.” Paige agreed, then paused shocked to find herself promoting anything that had come out of Piper’s mouth. Whatevs, she thought, shrugging it off. Phoebe reluctantly retreated but not without a squeeze to one of Paige’s cheeks.

“This face.” Phoebe grinned. “Okay kid, now I’m done.” Prue held on for just a moment longer, forehead tipped against Paige’s cheek. Her last growth spurt around eighteen, left her towering two inches above either of her sisters. Yet somehow, she still felt so little around them. And sometimes she didn’t mind. She let Prue hold on without impatience or complaint. She knew that in another world, perhaps the collision of fate had ended with a family tableau in which either of them could be conspicuously absent. 

“Alright, what are you thinking?” Prue at last stepped away, her eyes suspiciously misty.

 

“Well, scrying with the Power of Three works for something that we know is there even if we don’t know exactly where. Right?” Paige began. She paced around the outside of the pentagram, passing behind each of her sisters until she stood at a single point alone to face all of them. “But since we’re not entirely sure the Asgardians are still here on Earth, what we really need is a way to look for something we don’t know is there. Something that might evade us because we don’t know the precise means necessary to recognize it.”

“How’s that then?” Piper gave in, genuinely curious.

“Just like you said Pipes. You already have the Power of Three.” A grin widened on Paige’s face. “But what you need, is me.”

“Of course!” Prue breathed catching on.

“I don’t get it.” Piper shook her head, and asked. “Why would we need you?” Paige’s eyes narrowed. It was an unsubtle dig but the high road called in the interest of making progress.

“What is it that Whitelighers do?” Paige lifted her arms from her sides as though it were obvious. “Sense where their so-called charges are …” She hinted.

“You have built in exactly what we need.” Phoebe murmured. “Whitelighters primarily locate the unknown and the only place closed to their abilities is the underworld. This is perfect.”

“And if we adjust the spell ...” Paige took up the thought, edging Phoebe forward.

“We can write in like a macro, an activator that links in your sensing!” Phoebe, pointed to Paige then herself, “You, Me, genius.”

“I’m thinking we won’t even have to eliminate unlikely possibilities. This should point directly to the Asgardians if they are in fact still here.” Paige dusted her shoulders off, and turned to head for the attic door. “Let me know when you guys are ready to spit that rhyme.”

“Not so fast Snoop Dogg.” Prue shook her head. “You start the first draft. Phoebe will edit it for you.”

“But …” Paige stammered.

“No buts, you need the practice.” Prue pointed meaningfully at the large oak table where it seemed Paige spent most of her life and effort as a witch. “Go on.” Paige’s shoulders drooped and she trudged over to get started.

“Let me know if you need help.” Phoebe grinned, headed toward the attic door, following close behind Piper and Prue. “I’ll keep your little friend company.”

“She’s not little. She can overhead squat this manor.” Paige muttered, then eyes widening called so that her voice carried through the open attic doorway. “No embarrassing stories I mean it!”

 

“Activator.” Paige lay on her back having cleared a space in the middle of the table. Her hands and busily dancing fingers were involved in an intricate if idle ballet. From time to time she’d pause and garner an impressive display of orbs above her. The twinkling lights would spin and twirl, dancing together. They multiplied to hundreds of tiny, fiery spheres or dwindled to a single entity the size of a small melon. She made them rise toward the ceiling or drift lower and lower until they were a cloud around her fingertips.

“That is amazing.” 

Paige startled, sitting up into her cloud of orbs. They surrounded her face making it impossible to see. She sighed in frustration and extinguished the cloud with a flick of her wrist. Kara stood next to the table, giggling.

“Phoebe said you had your hands full with a new spell but thought you might like some company.” Kara slid onto the table sitting quite close but not overtly so. Paige, folded her crossed her legs under her while Kara let hers dangle, swinging off the edge back and forth.

“I’m feeling a bit blocked.” Paige confided. She picked up a pen and twirled it deftly between each of the fingers of her left hand. With a flip of her pinky, the pen tumbled to be caught and twirled between the fingers of her right.

“That’s …” Kara watched mouth wide in fascination. Paige let the fingers of her right hand close around the pen, then opened them to reveal the pen had disappeared. She gave an exaggerated rendition of jazz hands, raising her arms up above her head, then froze. She reached out tugging the zipper of Kara’s ever present Midvale High hoodie to reveal the pen clipped to the neck of Kara’s t-shirt.

“How did you?” Kara couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Magic?” Paige sucked in a breath of mock astonishment. Kara recognized that she was currently sitting in the house of three honest to goodness witches. Nevertheless, that had been a finely executed display of sleight of hand that even Kara’s astute perception couldn’t undermine.

“You’re kind of awesome Paige Matthews.” Kara plucked the pen from her t-shirt and returned it into Paige’s waiting hand. Paige continued to juggle left hand to right and back again. Her hands moved quickly, circling around each other, over, under, over, under in an unending loop traversed by the pen.

“You’re kind of awesome too, Kara …” Paige paused, and when she did the pen halted, hovering in the air above her hands as though for it, time had stopped. She tilted her head expectantly at Kara.

“Zor-El.” Kara hummed, looking down at the toes of her runners. “My adoptive name is Danvers.”

“Which do you prefer?” Paige asked. It wasn’t a simple question was it. Kara looked quite panicked for a long moment, before she shook her head, no. “How about just Kara?”

“Thank you, yes.” Kara nodded, sighing deeply. She looked back up to meet Paige’s eyes. “Can I help?”

“Well,” Paige said thoughtfully, returning to her juggling act. “Maybe.”

“What’s the assignment?”

“Activator spell.” Paige confided.

“What’s that?” Kara seemed, as ever, genuinely interested.

“This one is meant to be a spell within the spell we’ve already written.” Paige explained. “It’s going to take advantage of one of the abilities I inherited from my biological father called sensing. It will be like adding a filter so specific that we will immediately receive one result with precision and accuracy.”

“Wow.” Kara chewed her lip thoughtfully. “So basically you need a spell to turn you on.”

“Ha ha.” Paige deadpanned. Kara wiggled her brows. “But yeah.” Paige tossed the pen onto a pile of papers, first drafts of heinously poor quality.

“When you sense something, what do you do exactly?” Kara asked.

“Exactly?” Paige made a noise of amusement in the back of her throat. “Close my eyes, let go. When I open my eyes, I’m there.”

“Show me?” Kara nudged Paige in the side, to which Paige folded giggling involuntarily. She straightened clearing her throat, eyes darting in embarrassment.

“I’m freakishly ticklish.” Kara smiled wide, eyes rounding in what promised to be ominous. “I also am prone to peeing when tickled. So, let’s avoid that horrible scene for both our sakes.” Paige eased off the table, side-eyeing Kara, suspiciously. “How about I just show you how I do this?”

“Okay.” Kara conceded, though not leaving Paige entirely convinced that the moratorium on tickling had been accepted.

“Okay.” Paige breathed out, relaxing into her body. She closed her eyes, shook her arms loose, her legs, rolled her head on her neck, shook her booty, did a few squats, shimmied her shoulders. She cracked one eye open and caught Kara snickering softly behind a hand. “Just testing to see if you were paying attention.” Paige smiled. “Alright here we go.” Eyes closed, Paige let completely … Go.

Kara blinked. It had been instantaneous. There was no rush of air, no flicker of lights, nothing to perceive. One second Paige was there and then just gone the very next. Kara slid off the table, stepping carefully into the space Paige had only just occupied. She could feel no difference in the air. It wasn’t hot or colder than it should. There was no detectable indicator of why …

“Hey.” Kara spun, covering her mouth to stifle a screech. In thirteen years on this planet, no one had ever snuck up on her. She could feel her heartbeat pumping significantly harder. So this is what it was like. She deeply regretted the countless times she snuck up on Alex when they were kids. It was unaccountably cruel. And absolutely NOT funny. Kara scowled for a moment, trying to catch her breath. Paige sat perched on the table, as if she’d never left. “How you doin’ over there? You okay?” Paige winked.

“That was …”Kara took one more deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest. “Impressive.”

“No, that” Paige shook her head in disagreement. “Wasn’t the impressive part.” Paige nodded at Kara’s hoodie. “Check your pocket.” Kara reached both hands into the pockets of the well-worn hoodie she’d adopted as staple-wear in the last few weeks. The pockets had certainly been empty moments ago, but now, in the right hand side, Kara could feel … She retracted her hand and audibly gasped. “It just happens. I open myself up and I reached out for something you were missing.” Paige bit her lip, waiting for some verbal response. But Kara remained silent. It only took a moment for Paige to realize Kara’s chin was trembling as she fought tears. Paige leapt off the table, practically skidding into Kara. She placed her hands on Kara’s arms, rubbing lightly. 

“Hey, hey.” She murmured, dipping her head to catch a glimpse into Kara’s eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s …” Kara took a breath, tried to find the calm and the words. “When I was little, just after I got here, there were still times when Alex struggled with having me for a little sister. She was embarrassed, you know.” Kara sniffled. “And I just wanted so much to make her … want me?” Kara’s breath hitched on a sob, and tears tumbled onto her cheeks. “So, it’s the end of my second summer and I begged and begged Eliza, my adoptive mom, to let me go shopping for school stuff with Alex and her friends. Alex was mortified but I was determined to make her proud of me.” Kara swallowed, steadying herself. “Eliza never let me out of her sight in public back then, but that one time she seemed to understand how badly I wanted this.” Kara shuddered and Paige murmured encouragement.

“So we go, and I was the perfect little sister. I didn’t get in the way or say any of the things she’d warned me would sound weird to other kids. And,” Kara paused, catching her breath then continuing. “We go to this store and Alex is trying on sunglasses. She picks out some that she loves and is going to buy. I go over and try the same ones on thinking how awesome it would be, like a not necessarily identical but perhaps inseparable pair we … belonged.” Kara frowned. “But of course her friends saw me and started laughing and making fun of me for trying to be like Alex.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Paige murmured, her expression entirely sympathetic.

“But that’s just it.” Kara finally looked up into Paige’s eyes, “Alex stood up for me. She said some pretty awful things to those girls, popular girls who made Alex’s life miserable later. It was spectacular. Then she grabbed my hand, took me up to the sales counter and bought both pairs of sunglasses.” Kara smiled, remembering it all so vividly. “When we got home, I told Eliza all about it. I couldn’t stop talking about how Alex had stood up for me. Eliza seemed so proud of both of us. She wanted to hear what Alex said over and over again, even though Alex was red with embarrassment about the whole thing.” Kara laughed out loud. “She really did say some truly awful things to those girls.”

“Remember any of them?” Paige asked with impish grin.

“I was strictly warned that under no circumstances was I ever to repeat anything that had come out of Alex’s mouth that day.” Kara chuckled, then sighed wanting to hold onto just that part of the memory. “ Eliza took a picture of us. I have it in my apartment. Alex and I in our matching sunglasses. These sunglasses.” Kara held them up in spite of the impossibility of their presence. “I lost them at the beach that same summer. I was inconsolable.” Kara couldn’t fathom it. The very same pair of sunglasses, she knew. They had her initials scratched on the inside of the right arm - KD. 

“How did you do this?” Kara gazed at Paige imploringly. Paige reached up, gently brushing tears from Kara’s cheeks with her thumbs and shrugged.

“I told you. I just, let go of where I am and the sense pulls me from here.” Paige reached out with her right hand to tap her index finger against the space just above Kara’s heart.

“Thank you.” Kara leaned forward, sliding easily into Paige’s arms. Paige wrapped her snug, unrepentantly basking in the moment.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” Paige murmured into Kara’s hair. Kara pulled back, narrowing her eyes.

“You should be sorry you startled me. I’ve never been scared like that in my life.” The ominous note Kara’s voice had taken was its own foreshadowing.

“Kara.” Paige’s voice held warning as she tried to disentangle herself, though far too late to out-maneuver the girl of steel. Paige was on her back, screaming laughter, in seconds. “NO! NO! NO!” She hyperventilated, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Kara’s hands were everywhere, in a blink finding every ticklish spot. It was impossible to block or dodge. “Please! I’m sorry!” Paige thrust her hands between her legs, squeezing her knees shut and prayed. Nope, too late for godly intervention. Mustering her concentration, she orbed away just as she felt dampness beginning to spread.

Alone again in the attic, this time Kara held her stomach laughing uncontrollably. From the floor below and the general vicinity of Paige’s bedroom, she could hear Paige’s incensed voice. “Not cool!” When Paige trudged back up to the attic, it was in a simple scoop cut tank and a fresh pair of jeans, bright white and ultra slim, clinging from round hips to Paige’s dainty ankles. Kara found herself momentarily transfixed, in spite of the thunder on Paige’s face. Kara swung her legs, waited, watching as Paige cautiously picked her way back to the table. 

“Even?” Paige mumbled, extending a hand to shake. Kara took Paige’s soft hand in hers, marvelled at how fine the bones were, how delicate, and gave it a gentle shake.

“Even.” Kara confirmed.

“So I was thinking about something you said.” Paige leaned against the table, crossing her legs. She’d put on a pair of high top converse that had seen their fair share of wear. She rubbed her sneakers together absently as she spoke.

“Yeah?”

“The Asgardians are from another world parallel to this one, right?” Paige began, letting her thoughts unravel, as she toyed with possibilities.

“They are, indeed.” Kara confirmed nodding.

“What if I could look for something that doesn’t belong to this universe? What if that were the filter?” Paige ventured, “Even better, I could find such an errant something in our universe at the very moment it arrived. It’s unique otherness would serve as a tracer smearing itself through time. I just have to locate the first and finally the last smudge.” Paige turned, gesturing toward the end of the table, the pen flipped up and into her hand while paper slid before her. “Ever seen Mean Girls?”

“Is that … what is that?” Kara asked leaning back, trying to catch a glimpse under Paige’s bent head as her hand moved rapidly across the paper.

“It’s a movie.” Paige replied without pausing. In fact she seemed to only gain speed. “The story about your sister and her friends, reminded me of it. My activator spell, I’m calling it Gretchen.” Kara opened her mouth to inquire. “Don’t ask, if you haven’t seen the movie it’s really not a terribly relevant reference.”

 

“Mean Girls?” Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh. “You realize Prue is going to lecture you about taking things seriously.” She affected a very Prue-like manner and intoned, “Part of Authoring is leaving a legacy. Ask yourself, is this something you really want to have in the family grimoire permanently?”

“I’ve already linked the sensing activation to Gretchen.” Paige twisted her lips, then grinning, “You have to admit it’s kind of funny.”

“Only you, kid. Only you.” Phoebe murmured shaking her head. “I’ll patch it and we’ll give it a try.” Phoebe nodded at Kara, “What do you think of all this?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Kara admitted. “I’m not sure how or why I’m here.”

“Questions like that inevitably frame answers in their own time.” Phoebe replied, she turned her attention back to pages spell. “You two go and canoodle. I’ll have this ready in no time.”

“Thanks Pheebs!” Paige reached out taking Kara’s hands in her own. “I have a great idea.” As she closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, she heard Kara ask.

“Where are we going?” 

“Here.” Paige replied, opening her eyes to twilight. Unlike San Francisco, the air was moist, muggy and fragrant. They’d orbed into a thick copse of trees. Kara hadn’t seen their like or heard such calls before from the birds and other animals flitting about the canopy above them. 

“Come on.” Paige gave Kara’s hands a tug, leading the way. What appeared for every glimpse the depths of a tropical forest, offered the added benefit of winding, well-worn track. The soil gave way to sandy loam as the tree line opened up revealing a long stretch of beach that glimmered under the moonlight. Kara looked up and could see the constellations with clarity. She was thrust back to summer nights on the roof of the Danvers’ home, cuddled close to Alex and whispering. Over and over, she’d ask Alex to tell the same stories of how the stars seen here from Earth had been named in ancient times. Ever indulgent, Alex would spin the same tales until Kara drifted off to sleep.

“It’s beautiful.” Kara murmured, gazing at sapphire waves and a tranquil sea.

“For us, anything maybe fuel for the craft. Sometimes, it’s necessary to travel thousands of miles for one ingredient.” Paige murmured, there was a reverent hush to her words. “This beach is ninety-nine percent quartz, that’s virtually pure silica.” Kara arched a dubious brow at Paige, as though to inquire why that might be more relevant than enjoying the beauty of a beach in what felt like paradise even to a girl who grew up at the oceanside.

Paige tread further out into the sand, reaching her arms wide, to twirl in the moonlight. Kara watched a smile widening across her features. Under the pale light of that fertile moon, Paige surely looked like a deity. Paige slowed, stopping with her arms out, head thrown back. It was as though she was drinking deeply from a rich succor Kara’s senses could not detect. Cheeks flush and eyes alight with a wild energy, Kara found herself pinned again by Paige’s scrutiny. It was strangely invigorating.

“Earlier when I reached out for something you’d lost, I also found something else.” Kara closely watched the movement of Paige’s lips. They were so pink in this light. Kneeling in the bleached sand, Paige gestured Kara closer. Paige reached out dipping her hands, letting fine white particles run through her fingers.

“What was it?” Kara knelt too so their shoulders brushed. She’d never been to this place. It was totally unfamiliar. What could she have lost here?

“As a child recall what you wanted to be, truly, when you grew up.” Alex asked in turn. She reached over taking Kara’s hands and pressing them into the sand. “Close your eyes.” Obediently, Kara shut her eyes and Paige too, breathing deep to center herself, let her eyelids slip closed. 

“Pure silica, melts at one thousand six hundred and fifty degrees celsius and when it cools, it creates a glass of unparalleled clarity.” Eyes closed and moving by sense, Paige reached out, guided Kara’s hands in a scooping motion so that in her cupped palms, Kara now cradled a mound of gleaming white quartz. “There is some little thing waiting patiently inside your heart for you to give it form.” Paige let go of Kara hands and let the silence surround them. It would have to be Kara’s choice. “Now show me.” Paige commanded after a moment, breathing in the quiet, lulled by the soft sounds of the receding tide.

Moments passed and Paige watched Kara’s breathing slow, steady, until at last … Paige leaned away, drawing an arm up across her face. It was brilliant and amber with a wash of magnificent heat, like standing before a ceramic furnace. Even behind her lids, Paige could see the bright beam of Kara’s heat vision. But then soon followed by a frigid relief as amber dissipated and Kara blew out steadily, the air crackling at the precipitous drop in temperature. Paige shivered involuntarily. When all had calmed, she dropped her arm, opened her eyes and looked to see Kara’s palms still cupped. In them sat an intricate piece of glasswork of delicate strands interweaving. 

“Oh Kara.” Paige breathed. “It’s … gorgeous.” Kara smiled sheepishly, and held it out.

“It’s for you.” Kara nodded, indicating Paige’s wrist and blushed, “I mean, I made it for you.” Paige grinned. No one had ever given such a precious gift, Paige thought. She’d gotten pearl earrings from her Aunt Carol and Uncle Dan for her twenty-first birthday, but that was about it. This was, stunning. After all, nothing else existed like it.

Still somewhat cool to the touch, it was so light in Paige’s hand, but not fragile in it being so delicate. “This is the symbol from my family’s grimoire, the Triquetra.” Paige whispered in awe, turning the piece of art over in her hands. Cupping her thumb against her palm, Paige slid it past the fingers of her left hand with ease, smiling as it settled into place, a perfect fit.

“You are a magical creature, Kara.” Paige leaned over, intending to press a chaste kiss to Kara’s burning cheek. But as their eyes met, Paige found herself inextricably pulled, Kara’s lips a lovely beacon. Kara’s hand, soft and firm, slid along Paige’s bare shoulder to her neck. Their eyes closed in concert as the distance between them dwindled and lips …

Paige jerked back as though she’d received an electric shock. Kara, eyes widened, equally startled, mouthed a confused, what?

“I’m sorry.” Paige tried to catch her breath. “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, a rueful if not irritated look flashing in her eyes. “It’s my sisters.” She gestured vaguely upwards. “They’re calling.”

“They’re …” Kara glanced down at Paige’s jeans, pockets empty, looking for a cell phone though she hadn’t heard it ring.

“It’s a Whitelighter thing.” Paige brushed off Kara’s obvious confusion. “We have to go.” She took Kara’s hand, but just before Kara felt the delightful shiver of Paige orbing them back, she felt the soft brush of lips against her cheek. An instant later, they stood in the attic of Halliwell manor under the amused regard of Paige’s sisters.

“Where have you two been?” Prue asked. Fine white sand was gathering around the girls’ feet, but more importantly they shared a heightened flush to their cheeks.

“Gulf of Mexico.” Paige replied off-handedly. Prue’s eyes drifted to Paige’s left wrist and the unfamiliar crystalline bracelet. Smirking she entertained Paige with a significant look. “Shall we?”

 

Jackpot

“Come on, Paige.” Phoebe urged softly. She deplored diffusing what was obviously a very romantic moment for her little sister, but time was wasting. Paige stood by the attic door fumbling over good-byes while her sisters lit candles for the pentagram. 

“You should go.” Paige took in Kara’s uneasy gaze, knew the girl intended to argue the merits of having a another being with super powers nearby. But couldn’t risk Kara getting hurt. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. I’ll text you when we’re done. Go on.”

“Okay.” Kara sighed. She glanced down at their entwined hands, wondering at how quickly this intimate gesture had become reflex. She didn’t want to let go. “I’ll see you soon.” She started to pull away, then added, “Be careful?” 

Paige winked and leaning in to brush another unexpected kiss against Kara’s cheek, she whispered, “Always.” Paige loved the way Kara’s cheeks flushed with shy embarrassment, and something a bit more sultry. With a nod of finality, Kara slipped away and down the stairs to let herself out.

“Now that you are done simpering over your girlfriend, could we get this over with?” Piper sniped impatiently.

“Sure thing, Pipes.” Paige smiled, miraculously impervious to Piper’s sour grapes. Prue and Phoebe exchanged amused glances. Thier little sister wooing a global icon, Paige and Supergirl. It was absolutely surreal.

“Let’s make fetch happen.” Phoebe winked and predictably Prue frowned.

“We’re going to have a talk …” Prue began as Paige took her place at one of the points of the pentagram.

“I know we are.” Paige muttered, rolling her eyes.

They joined hands and Phoebe began, “Aid us in our query Witches. Laura, Grace, Astrid, Melinda.  
Helena, Penelope, and our Patricia. Heed this call.” The flames jumped on the candle wicks as a breeze raced around the attic, circling the sisters.

Together they intoned, “So mote it be.”

“We cast this vial in offering.” Piper spoke, holding a small glass vial of the potion before her. “With Rosemary, Cypress, and Yarrow Root.” She dashed the potion to the rhythm of her words out over the pentagram. “And our blood to seal.” In careful concert, the four women each produced a ceremonial athame. With a small cut to the tip of an index finger, each bent and held the bloodstained blade into the candle flame at her feet. The flames jumped and crackled, casting shadows of things not present, beings and places belonging to another world.

Again their voices rose together in harmony, “So mote it be.”

Next Prue spoke, the authority of her voice seeming to draw the power steadily building in the attic, “Conduct this power with sound intention.” 

Paige closed her eyes, murmuring softly, “Gretchen. Gretchen. Gretchen” Each utterance drew her farther away. She let go and flickering, intermittently with the bright, white shimmering effervescence of her power, disappeared from the attic.

Prue continued without pause, “Incursion through the looking glass. In a distant era passed. Trace the parallel in time. Find the ley that is prime.”

As one last time the remaining Halliwell sisters spoke together, “So mote it be.” The candles flickered once, jumping erratically, then extinguished. In darkness now, the attic stood empty.  
“This was supposed to be a scrying spell, not a transportation spell! What the actual …”

“Uh guys,” Paige interrupted Piper’s rant, her voice wavering with nervousness. They’d materialized in what appeared to be a cozy living room, though not readily familiar as a place any of them had ever been. Closest at hand, Paige reached out to grip Phoebe’s forearm and tilted her head. Piper and Prue turned, breaking the circle. Shoulder to shoulder, they now stood and regarded two young women, a petite brunette and a somewhat taller redhead. Coffee mugs in hand, they hovered at the entrance to the room as though they had been interrupted on their way in to have a sit and chat.

“Fuck.” The brunette whispered, and both mugs dropped to shatter against hardwood. Prue raised a hand, intending it to be a calming gesture. That was a mistake.

“Impedimentum!” the redhead shouted, casting a stout barrier with both hands. The Halliwells were buffeted back by the force of the magic. Looking at each other grimly, they each raised their hands preparing to do battle.

 

And, You’re Welcome

 

Ingrid glanced anxiously at her sister and shouted, “Freya, run!” Freya looked torn, not wanting to leave her sister behind. “Now!” Ingrid shouted, turning her attention back to the barrier. The four women were casting, pitching their combined strength against it. It wouldn’t hold for long. Freya darted away, heading for the stairs.

“Mom! Aunt Wendy! Four witches just appeared in the living room!” She called urgently up from the bottom. She turned back, peering from the hallway to catch a glimpse of Ingrid in the next room. She could see her sister’s hands violently shaking, shoulders tensed. When Freya looked back to the stairs, her mother stood right before her. Freya stifled a startled scream.

“Upstairs with Wendy.” Joanna brushed past her daughter. “Go!” Freya flew up the stairs, knowing not to question her mother’s order. Joanna strode purposefully into the living room intending to assist her eldest; but what she saw halted her steps.

“Auferam sepem!” Joanna waved her hands, dropping Ingrid’s barrier spell.

“Mom? What are you …” Ingrid heaved, breathless, eyes darting from the witches to her mother and back again. She placed her hands on her knees, feeling light-headed and horribly nauseated. “They’re …” Ingrid gasped, struggling to remain upright. She’d expended an inordinate amount of energy holding off four simultaneous attacks. Her vision tunneled and the room took on a decidedly spinny character. “Mom …” Joanna caught her daughter just as, face slack, Ingrid fell into unconsciousness. 

Joanna heaved a mighty breath, easing her daughter down to rest on the floor. Sparing a glance to the shocked women gathered in her living room, she managed an ironic grin. 

“Daughters of Patricia Halliwell, welcome to East End.”

 

“Dude.” Freya breathed.

“Don’t call me dude.” Ingrid muttered, holding a cool compress against her forehead. She felt like she’d been run over by a circus caravan - fucking Ringling Brothers.

“You totally just held off four witches for like a solid thirty seconds by yourself.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.” Ingrid replied closing her eyes.

“I know, right?!” Freya bubbled excitedly. “Wendy says their power is foretold by some ancient prophecy, the Charmed Ones. Oh and the youngest one, in the ponytail and those painted on white jeans … but those white jeans, though?” Freya winked, “Is half witch and half … get this, angel or I guess they call them Whitelighters.”

“And we’re aliens from a far away planet called Asgard.” Ingrid shrugged. “If we’re keeping score, none of us exactly grew up in this neck of the woods.” She stumbled to her feet, pressing a steadying hand against the surface of the kitchen table. “I’m going to go throw up now … a lot.” Ingrid wandered haltingly out of the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with my jeans?”

Freya coughed, startled. The youngest sister stood just behind her, framed in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed.

“I thought you were …”

“I came to find your sister. I thought maybe I could help.” Paige held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. “Half whitelighter means healing powers.”

“She went upstairs.” Freya gestured in the direction of the hallway.

“To throw up a lot.” Paige nodded sagely, “Thanks, dude.” She slipped out of the kitchen. The home, Paige had learned in the moments directly following that unexpected magical confrontation, belonged to the Beauchamp family. Joanna and Wendy were sisters. Paige took her time making her way along the hallway to the stairs. The walls were lined with photos of East End that seemed to date back centuries. The family portraits, however, were all recent. Ingrid the redhead and Freya the smarmy brunette, Paige noted as her eyes scanned the progression of both from luminous, wide-eyed children to the very powerful women she’d just engaged in witchcraft throwdown. 

Since the leadership of both Beauchamps and Halliwells were fully engaged in a WTF conference in the living room, Paige took the opportunity to excuse herself and explore. It was unlikely she’d be missed in the midst of that heated head to head, especially since witch business usually meant the Charmed Ones. And Paige, as Piper often felt it necessary to remind, was not a Charmed One.

Paige followed the low painful sounds of moaning to one of the second floor bedrooms. In it, Ingrid lay prone, feet dangling off the side of the mattress. Paige couldn’t readily make out much under long auburn waves as Ingrid had seemingly collapsed face first, head tucked under her arms as though to shield her from the unholy bout of nausea. But for the sound of abject misery emanating from the room, Paige might have been a great deal more concerned as to Ingrid’s present state of health. Distracted a moment, Paige took in her surroundings, not above exploiting the opportunity to snoop. It was a beautifully appointed bedroom, painted a bright peachy yellow with mahogany furniture and accents throughout. Huge windows covered one wall offering plenty of natural light and the warm fragrance of sandalwood and cedar drifted from a fireplace. Overflowing bookcases lined the walls. The fireplace was bracketed by what appeared to be a very comfy armchair and sofa set. A sizable oak table quite similar to the one in the attic at Halliwell manor an armoire and a bit of artwork lent the final accents to the space. Paige caught a glimpse through a door of a well-decorated en suite bathroom and hummed in appreciation. Nice place, she thought.

“Hi.” Paige ventured softly, “Alright if I come in?” She hovered on the threshold. She figured a demonstration of manners was the least she could offer after the dramatic entrance in which she’d participated earlier. Ingrid lifted her head to peer over her shoulder. The look on her face suggested she fully intended to decline the request no matter how polite. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Paige added, then realizing from the expression on Ingrid’s face that wasn’t helping, clarified. “I have the power to heal. Give me a second and I can make you feel a whole lot less like throwing up.”

Ingrid rolled over onto her back attempting to sit up then changed her mind thinking very little of the results of that attempt. Her stomach roiled as her eyes roamed over Paige with no small amount of suspicion.

“Go on then.” Paige offered her most charming grin. “I promise you have nothing to worry about in spite of all earlier evidence to the contrary.” Ingrid cracked a small smile at that and offered a limp gesture indicating Paige enter. 

“I’m Paige.” Paige walked over, extending her hand. Ingrid shook it, nodding for Paige to have a seat.

“Ingrid.” Ingrid closed her eyes, sat back on her elbows as another bout of dizziness hit.

“As impressive as that display was, Ingrid, and it was massively impressive.” Paige reached out, letting her hands hover over Ingrid’s head and stomach in turn. “Casting like that can be very dangerous.” Paige’s hands began to glow and Ingrid hummed with near immediate relief. “When you syphon energy from your own body rather than utilizing the free energy in the world around us, there is a very real danger that you will expend your entire life force.” Paige watched Ingrid open her eyes, blinking and astonished at how incredible she felt. Paige drew her hands away, tilting her head she offered a self-satisfied smirk. “A spell is a ravenous animal. It doesn’t eat until it’s full. It eats until nothing is left.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.” Ingrid sat up again, regarding Paige in her ponytail and high top Chuck Taylors wryly. “What are you like twelve?”

“Twenty-three actually.” Paige’s smile became a bit strained. “But I’ve been studying the Craft since I was twelve and that was one of my first lessons. How about you?” Ingrid cleared her throat uncomfortably. She mumbled something unintelligible while fiddling with a piece of lint on the bedspread. Paige made a valiant effort not to look smug. Instead she rose to examine the contents of one of Ingrid’s bookshelves. She made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. Ingrid’s tastes were voluminous.

“So what do you do?” Paige asked, looking over her shoulder to where Ingrid remained seated. “You know, when you’re not trying to battle four witches on your own. I believe they call that Le Fucking Badass, by the way.”

“Librarian.” A small smile sparked once again on Ingrid’s face. This kid was admittedly a charmer, Ingrid thought with amusement. She observed the girl, Paige, as she ran her fingers lightly over the spines of books, mouth moving as she read the titles. “And You? What do you do when you aren’t appearing out of thin air in the homes of strangers.” Paige bit her lip, turning away from the bookshelf to offer a genuinely contrite look at this.

“Sorry about that. Our scrying spell was a bit more potent than intended.” Paige apologized. Ingrid smiled wider at the tinge of embarrassment coloring the tips of Paige’s ears and spreading across fine cheekbones. The more Ingrid observed her, the more Paige had an elfin quality about her, like a character out of the world of Tolkien. “I’m in the Master’s program in Social Work at UCSF and interning at the San Francisco Department of Child and Family Services. I’m also doing a Post-Grad seminar in Physics through the extension at Berkeley but that’s just for shits and gigs, ya know?”

“Wait, UCSF?” Ingrid repeated. Jumping to her feet, she paced over to her desk. Not terribly cluttered, it still took a moment for her to uncover the fruit of her search. Ingrid turned, a thick, spiral bound document in her hands. “Paige Matthews?”

“Yeah.” Paige bobbed her head as though it were unnecessary to revisit this part of the conversation. “That’s me.”

“Did you write a paper titled, Thermodynamics and The Craft?”

“I did. I mean, I am. I mean.” Paige held up her hands as if the gesture could somehow force her thoughts to track. “I’m editing it now. How do you even know that?”

“My aunt gave me a copy to read.” Ingrid held up the document then handed it over. Paige flipped through, immediately recognizing her own words. She looked back at Ingrid in confusion and curiosity. “Don’t ask me how she got it.” Ingrid shrugged noncommittally.

“Okay, I won’t I guess.” Paige handed the document back to Ingrid who returned it to her desk.

“It’s remarkable, truly.” Ingrid commented, gushed really. “I’ve never read anything like it.” Paige placed a bashful hand on her neck, shifting awkwardly. Everything in her posture said, Aw, Shucks.

“Thanks. It was a blast to write.” Paige grinned, “Seriously, I nearly blew up our attic puzzling through some of the dynamics I talk about in there. 

“I wrote a dissertation about the history of witchcraft here in East End.” Ingrid revealed. Her nose wrinkled with discomfiture as she added, “I didn’t defend it. “I kind of ...well, quit”

“Well, I’d love to read it.” Paige remarked, shrugging off Ingrid’s timid confession. “After all, that’s only fair.”

“Sure.” Ingrid conceded easily. “So why aren’t you …” She gestured vaguely out the door, indicating Paige’s conspicuous absence from whatever conversation her sisters were having with Ingrid’s Mom and Aunt. Paige shrugged.

“It’s complicated.” Paige shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Try me.” Ingrid gestured for Paige to have a seat. Paige slumped into the armchair by the fireplace, her body singing with comfort the moment she touched the cushions. Kicking off her shoes, Ingrid resumed her position sprawled on her bed, eyes locked attentively on Paige.

“I always say it’s about assassins trying to kill me. But really this whole thing starts way before I was of any consequence.” Ingrid’s eyes widened. 

“Assassins?” 

“Oh, yeah that’s why my sisters and I pulled that paratrooper-esque entrance.” Paige snapped her fingers as though the point had escaped her in its entirety. “We are being hunted by all of Heaven because I am what they believe to be an abomination, half Whitelighter, half witch.”

“Hunted?” Ingrid repeated, holding up a hand as though to put the brakes on this whole thing.

“Darklighters with orders to terminate me on-site, whitelighters with similar intentions though they tend to play the long game.” Paige heaved a sigh. Her attention drifted, her gaze dipped and she seemed altogether absent of a moment. “I’m tired.” She murmured. “We all are.” Shaking herself, Paige glanced back up to Ingrid, who already appeared to offer her piercing regard. “We’re trying to be proactive with a solution-oriented approach to not being killed that involves a bit more than dodging Darklighter arrows whenever we happen to see them coming.” Paige managed a low chuckle though in her stunned attention, Ingrid did not join her. “I have a friend who enlightened us to the unexpected information that you, the Asgardians, might have some means of relieving this burden we’ve suffered our entire lives. Late-breaking news, ya know?” Ingrid shook her head. Already, it was an unlikely tale, witches hunted by Heaven.

“I know,” Paige acknowledged the conflicting responses in Ingrid’s expression. “But like I said, it’s complicated. So …” Paige geared up with, “Once upon a time.”

 

Peremptory Strike

 

Kara had paced, anxious for the telling buzz from her mobile phone, some news to indicate Paige and the remainder of the Halliwell sisters were fine. Every few minutes she had to talk herself out of a return flight to San Francisco. Fifteen minutes was all it would take to ease her worry. But she had promised she would wait. She had to trust that Paige knew best. Fed up with the quiet and feeling the walls closing in, she’d relocated to Noonan’s. She sat at her favorite table, ordered a burger, fries and bottomless oreo shake. She hoped the comfort of some of her favorite snacks might offer a reprieve if only temporary.

“Kara!” James Olsen cut a dramatic line through the early evening crowd to Kara’s side. “Oh my god, where have you been?” Kara tamped down a surprising surge of discomfort feeling James’s arms wrap tightly around her shoulders. He pulled back, hands on her shoulders, his height and her seated position certainly should have made it uncomfortable as he stooped waiting for her to respond. His eyes searched hers frantically, realization slowly dawning as silence stretched between them. He stepped back, hands dropping to his sides. “We’ve been frantic. Kara, where were you? Winn and I have been covering for you at work for over two weeks. Cat, by the way, thinks you have malaria or some other crazy thing Winn concocted.” She glanced away from him, to her tightly clasped hands in her lap, to the other people socializing at tables throughout the restaurant, to the buttons on the front of his shirt that minutely flashed catching the light with every breath he took.

“Kara!” James placed his hands on the table leaning down again to her level. She glanced into his eyes, saw the frustration and disappointment, wondered what in turn he saw in hers. 

“Humans create their gods, James, shoddily construct their heroes; then gleefully wield the power to destroy what they fabricate.” James sighed, taking a seat across the table from Kara but resigned himself to listening. Kara stared at him blankly. “I wasn’t taught that heroism was wearing a cape. To be a hero is to embrace a duty, to practice faith, and recognize these as the heartbeat of life. Every functioning member of Kryptonian society strived to be a hero.”

“What are you suggesting, Kara?” James inquired warily.

“I am telling you that here on Earth, one must first be endowed with power in order to be called a hero. It is not power to protect or to heal, but to control and destroy. And it is, like the shabby gods of men, a construct of those who perceive it not those who supposedly bear the burden of it.”

“Kara what you can do …”

“Your heart beats, James, sixty, a hundred times per minute? Is it a special ability that you draw breath? Am I so extraordinary that I too simply live in a functioning body even if it isn’t human? Power and heroism, these are the dominion of your people, humans of Earth.” Kara barely held back the sneer. She shook her head, “Cat Grant makes me your hero and tomorrow on a whim she’ll make me a villain because it is in her power to do so.”

“Kara this isn’t you.” James, reached across the table, wanting to somehow touch her. She drew back, reinforcing the palpable distance between them. “You’re grieving. With time … ” Disbelief colored Kara’s features ruddy and for a moment James wondered if she would erupt in righteous anger. But for the most part she remained flat, calm, and James realized, in Kara’s eyes his reassurances were ignorant and presumptuous, child-like even. What could he understand of her loss? Pot stickers and ice cream, he thought with shame.

“This life could have been a mantle taken up worthy of all those who died in my stead; not some financially determinate commercial doctrine endowed by a fickle populace.” The waiter came by, sliding Kara’s meal and milkshake before her. She gazed down upon the plate and began to eat, staring blankly. 

“So what, you toss the cape and abandon your life here, your friends, Alex?” James shrugged, frowning. “Are you going to fly off and hide in your own Arctic fort for two years, finding yourself?”

“I am not him, James.” Kara murmured, and sipped her milkshake. “It’s not a family business. It’s his coping mechanism for how out of place he feels even though he’s the one who lived here his entire life. What is there for him to miss? He. Doesn’t. Know.” Kara emphasized glaring into James’s saddened eyes. “Whatever it is he craves when he puts on that cape, I don’t need it.” Kara took a deep breath. “I’m a girl from Krypton who lost everything. I don’t want to pretend at normal or anything else meant to suggest this is an even trade.” Kara wiped her mouth delicately. She raised her hand, and gaining the waiter’s attention, gestured for the check. When the waiter came, she offered her credit card and considered James for one last, loaded moment. 

“Where will you go?” James asked, resignation heavy in his voice.

“Who says I’m going anywhere?” Kara signed the check, left the better half of her meal untouched. “Bye James.”

He remained seated, watched her walk away. He loved her, had known that from the moment they’d met. It was only tonight, sitting across from her, that he realized he’d also feared her.

 

“Alex? It’s James.” Alex stepped away from the video screens in the DEO control room. There was no immediate privacy, save her lab. She kept her voice low as she answered, turning her back to the agents at the computer work stations.

“I recognized the number.” Alex responded. “What can I do for you?”

“Something is very wrong with Kara.” James cut straight to the point. “I just ran into her at Noonan’s and she was … I don’t know. Philosophical and oddly reserved. It wasn’t her.”

“I understand.” Alex, looked over her shoulder, the video screen in her immediate eye line holding her attention. “I have to go.”

“Listen Alex …” James began, but Alex hung up. She slid her mobile into her back pocket returning to her place at Agent Vazquez’s shoulder. “Play it again.” She commanded. Video feed from the personal surveillance camera of an agent attempting to track the movement of Non’s people was queued on the terminal just above their heads. The audio was filled with background noise and intermittent static. From the perspective of the camera, all that could be seen was the looming silhouette of a Kryptonian male. The agent had been knocked onto his back. He lay conscious but unmoving on the ground.

“It is my intent to spare your life human. Cease and desist this action and we both shall go our separate ways.” 

“Why haven’t your forces attacked in weeks? Even now you stand down.” The agent’s voice, strained from injury could be heard.

“Are not all soldiers led by obedience? Have you no orders to follow?” The Kryptonian sounded perplexed at this.

“So what is this, armistice? By whose decree?” The agent grunted, and the perspective shifted slightly as he tried to sit up. Perhaps unable, he remained where he was. The kryptonian moved forward, his features clearly in the frame as he regarded the agent closely. 

“By order of our General of course.” The Kryptonian responded. He seemed to be visually assessing the agent’s injuries, perhaps determining whether or not to finish what he’d started.

“Non? “ The agent scoffed, “I find that unlikely.”

“Non was terminated on the very night that General Astra passed on to glory.” The Kryptonian’s voice was solemn. He bowed his head for a moment in silent repose. Some instinct must have encouraged the agent to keep his silence until the Kryptonian raised his head.

“Who then?” The Kryptonian was already walking away, seconds from taking flight. The agent repeated his inquiry. Distantly, as the Kryptonian took the air his voice could just be heard at the very extreme of the capability of the microphone.

“We are led by the last daughter of the House of El, General Kara Zor-El.”

“Agent Danvers?” Vazquez looked up, waiting for further orders. Alex’s attention was rapt, locked on the final image captured in the video. “Ma’am?” Alex swallowed, blinking rapidly. Her heart felt like it would burst from her chest. She didn’t spare Vazquez a glance, just cleared her throat and motioned curtly with her head.

“Play it again.”

 

When we were young

She perched on the window sill, legs dangling and enjoyed the slight pull of gravity against her calves as each foot alternating swung in, out, in. The apartment behind her dark, empty, untouched since her departure - two weeks gone. If she listened closely, could she hear the echo of voices, and her own false laughter? Humans had a preoccupation with ghosts. Is that what lingered in the air, what stifled and made the prospect of coming home so unpalatable? So many stories below her feet where traffic buzzed, and nothing above but that deep dark that swallowed stars, and planets, and families whole. 

Resting in repose, she thought of it again. Hours ago, Paige had touched the warmth of her lips at the very center of Kara’s palm. She’d looked steadily into Kara’s eyes as she did it, whispering a word unknowable, unheard in spite of Kara’s splendid hearing. As though breathed into her skin, Kara felt the electrifying power of Paige’s craft even as Paige released her. They’ll fade when you call, Paige’s words hadn’t been good-bye, but see you when. And Kara gave in, finally listening to the instruction ringing so stridently within her in the two weeks since she’d run. Come home.

Just as she closed her eyes, waiting for the first rays of sun to break, caress the planes of her face, she heard the click and turn of tumblers, the door swinging wide, and a sharp intake of breath. Kara eased away from ennervated height of perception, escaping the labyrinthine sensory mash of the city. It was so easy to get lost here. She could almost forget. Except under all of it, the single steady rhythm that had long been her compass. 

“Kara.” Pathetic that sound, the sobbing relief, the breathless aching torment ceased. It was the piteous sound of something broken, yet clinging to life. It was strong and steady like the heart beating underneath and it was also wet and weak. Kara couldn’t bear the way it invaded her senses. She wanted to claw at her ears.

What was most odd to Kara; she’d never thought of Alex as frail. Kara had adapted the definition of indestructible watching Alex who didn’t shed tears, who fought bullies in playgrounds, shook off broken bones, stood up to teachers. Alex who rather get angry than be devastated by anything, even her father’s death. Kara had watched closely but hadn’t learned to fight hard or to be fierce. She had learned instead to never be defeated. If she hadn’t won, she wasn’t done; and there was nothing a battle could physically destroy that could not be resurrected by the mind. That was how Alex protected Kara’s whole world, what Kara’s world had become after Krypton. It was how Alex inspired Kara to even try to protect a whole world that wasn’t her own by birth. 

Kara peered curiously at the unrecognizable, as Alex sagged weeping against the kitchen island, so like what should be wretched, what should be weak. But not Alex this droop-shouldered, keening spectre, no. Steadied on perhaps by the chill breeze from the open window, Kara’s steps drew her closer, close again, enough to not just see. She leaned, let the counter’s edge dig into her lower back and felt her shoulder brush stoutly against Alex’s, listened as she hiccupped, steadied her breath to speak..

“That’s my hoodie, brat. Where the fuck have you been?”

“That’s five dollars in the swear jar.” Kara murmured, listening to the harsh in and out of Alex’s breathing. High school had been rough on Alex’s allowance. Eliza Danvers had instituted a harsh penalty for inappropriate language that could corrupt Kara’s yet developing English skills. Alex turned and pulled Kara into a tight hug. The breakfast bar creaked with the force of it. 

“You never do that again. Do you understand me?” Alex whispered. Where once Alex’s embrace was the solace Kara inevitably sought, in it now she felt numb, hands limp at her sides. Alex pulled away enough to look into Kara’s eyes. “Never. Say it.” 

“I can’t.” Kara replied, fascinated by the turmoil in Alex’s eyes, she stared without judgment. When Alex moved to pull away, Kara at last held on. Alex shuddered, fresh tears joining the drying tracks along her cheeks.

“I understand if you need … if you need space, just please …” A breath hitched into a sob and Alex bit down on her lip, trying desperately to hold it all. She closed her eyes and her head dipped until it rested against Kara’s shoulder.

“I don’t.” Kara marvelled. When she was a child, she could just wrap her arms around Alex’s waist. Kara had grown so tall and so strong on this world where now she could hold Alex in a secure embrace. “I don’t need space, not from you.”

“Then what?” Alex’s lips brushed against Kara’s collarbone with the words, and for a moment Kara did not feel that creeping numbness that had been devouring an indiscriminate course through her body since Astra’s death.. She felt warm and pliant and alive again.

“I don’t know yet.”

“You’re not staying.” Alex rubbed her forehead against Kara’s shoulder. She sighed and placing her hands against Kara’s hips, tried to push away. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are, Kara.” She griped, while struggling to move away even as Kara held on. Alex gripped the hoodie she had worn and Kara had coveted from the bleachers at Midvale High track meets. She pulled at it, trying to wrench herself away. 

“I know about Non, Kara.” Kara blinked, her gentle comfort eradicated in an instant to be replaced by steel. “You cannot …” Kara slipped away from Alex, retreating to stand framed in one of the towering windows of her loft. She was a statuette under the light of the moon, a poised marble reckoning of godly strength.

“I have already grown well beyond the bounds of what YOU determine I can and cannot do, Alex.” Kara’s voice was hollow, drifting across the room. It worried at Alex’s ears as something unnatural.

“Do not do this. The DEO will hunt you, Kara.” 

Kara’s gaze was bland, unmoved. “And will you join them? Will you betray my deepest confidences in order to direct such a pursuit?”

“Don’t make me choose.” Alex shook her head, the plea as obvious as the threat. Kara stepped up onto the window sill, pushing wide the panes to the cool night air.

“I fear you already have.” Thoughts racing Alex could think of no adequate argument, she grasped at straws. letting her words flow in pace with panic.

“Do you remember when we were little and you told Mom you wanted to be an artist?” She said quickly, praying to any gods that might listen. 

“And now I am a General.” Kara, leaned forward, hovering before the vacuum.

“You can still be an artist.” Alex didn’t dare take a step, but so wished to be close enough to slide her hands along Kara’s arms, hold her steady. She watched Kara give her head a firm shake in clear dissent.

“An artist that wears a cape under the command of your DEO?” Kara snorted in derision, “No, thank you. I learn and I cope, Alex.”

“It’s your choice Kara and only yours to make.” Alex insisted, she clenched her hands into fists willing her words to be worthy. “No matter what you choose, you don’t have to put the cape back on; but you do have to consider that stepping into a role recently vacated by a dead woman is not the best option.” Kara turned at last, eyes flashing a dangerous hue.

“Dead at your hand, Alex my love.” Kara moved as though intending to leap back into the apartment from the minimal height of the window. “How can I not consider that for me as well, this is the end you have planned? Will it be quick? Will you kiss me goodbye?”

“Will I have to plan your end or will you simply see reason?” Alex countered. “Please Kara, just stay.” Kara smiled, sliding her hands into her pockets. She stepped backwards off the ledge. Alex ran forward, to catch one last glimpse. She could hear Kara’s voice, waning in the darkness above the city lights.

“Bye Alex. I’ll see you.”

 

“Your general died defending an idea and no, it wasn’t a noble death. Do you think I am not angry?” Kara looked upon the silent ranks of her army, women, men, aligned before her. Most seemed willing to hear. But they all remained eager to complete Non’s final directive, Myriad. This, Kara could not allow to happen. It was a waste of resources dire to a much greater offensive. 

“Vengeance against an enemy incapable of defending itself isn’t a task worthy of any daughter or son of Krypton.”

“And what of Myriad, General Kara?” A young soldier, no older than Kara stepped forward. She appeared respectful in her inquiry. Kara found herself grateful as she had been expecting some to countermand her wishes. She didn’t look forward to the examples that would become necessary under those circumstances.

“We didn’t come here to live.” Kara paced, meeting each woman and man, eye to eye. “We came here to survive. You are soldiers and there is one last battle to which we might offer our lives.” Kara stepped with purpose, hands clasped behind her back. She’d relinquished her jeans and hoodie for the uniform tying her indisputably to her army. “Would you rather die a peaceful death at the end of a quiet and insignificant life? Or would you stand with me against an enemy worthy of our respect not our contempt and quite capable of offering an honorable death in the heat and glory of battle?” Kara paused, raising her hands before her. “Rise with me sisters, brothers. Lend no further consideration to these primitive humans for it is time we waste in pursuit of their destruction knowing to do so is beneath us.” She stopped in front of the young soldier, gazing intently into fearless eyes. Startlingly, her eyes reminded Kara of Alex, but she could not bring herself to look away. She bore no smile though it was with relish she pitched her voice to the very rafters. “Tonight, we draw new battle lines.

 

Anything You Can Do

Joanna Beauchamp knocked lightly on her eldest child’s door. Left ajar, she could see Ingrid dosing on top of the covers of her bed. She’d never been quite so proud or worried as she had watching her daughter in the heat of a battle she could not win and yet refused to lose. In each successive life, Joanna had watched Ingrid grow into a force of such unparalleled power. Even in this one, with much of her talent as yet untapped, Joanna could see Ingrid quickly moving forward to realize her potential.

“Mom?” Ingrid blinked, rousing to wakefulness.

“Hey, sweetie.” Joanna sat on the edge of the bed and ran a loving hand through her daughter’s hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” Ingrid admitted ruefully, “But much better, thanks to Paige.” Ingrid nodded at the girl, who had dozed off in the midst of telling her story. Ingrid had lit a fire and tucked a quilt up under Paige’s chin to ward off any chill as the night drew long. Paige had curled up in the armchair like a contented kitten and barely stirred since.

“Her sisters will be staying with us.” Joanna gazed meaningfully into her daughter’s eyes. “We’ll do all we can as we must.”

“She’s just a kid.” Ingrid leaned into her mother’s side, eyes drooping. “There must be some way we can help.”

“Beyond offering our home as a sanctuary?” Joanna nodded. “Perhaps.”

“Hey is my sister …?” Prue Halliwell ducked her head into the doorway, whispering softly. “Ah I should have known.” Prue rolled her eyes spying a glimpse of Paige perched haphazardly and practically drooling. “The kid can fall asleep anywhere.” She directed her attention to Ingrid and Joanna Beauchamp, blushing guiltily. “I’m so sorry to impose.”

“It’s no imposition.” Joanna insisted. She placed a light kiss on Ingrid’s forehead then rose gesturing for Prue to follow her. “You and your sisters are always welcome. There’s room for you and Piper in the attic.” Joanna began leading the way toward the attic stairs. “And Phoebe …”

“Actually,” Prue smiled, “Freya mentioned having to leave for her shift bartending and Pheebs tagged along. So …” Prue shrugged.

“So,” Joanna nodded as if in agreement. “ The attic room wasn’t quite as large as Ingrid’s had been at first glance but would more than adequately accommodate especially under such short notice. Prue arched a curious brow as Joanna proceeded to tidy away piles of what appeared to be dirty laundry in which there seemed to be lots of ironic t-shirts and boxer briefs. “My son Frederick sleeps up here on occasion” Joanna clarified, muttering under her breath, “Where he sleeps the rest of the time …” Prue subdued a chuckle.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Prue watched as Joanna threw the last of the laundry into a hamper and hefted it, preparing to leave. “You’ve been entirely too gracious.”

“Like I said, your family is always welcome here.” Joanna stopped to place a warm hand on Prue’s arm. “Your mother was a dear friend.” Joanna continued on halfway out the door before she turned, adding, “You needn’t worry. You’re all quite safe here.” Strangely enough, Prue believed it. Safe. First time Prue could remember that word having any real meaning. Perhaps she’d sleep soundly knowing that her life and the lives of her sisters weren’t in immediate jeopardy.

 

“We all choose how we work our craft.” Freya cast a sultry look under long lashes down the bar at some wide-eyed patron. Phoebe laughed, watching with interest as Freya poured a little bit of this, mixed a little bit of that.

“My sister Piper, she used to be like you. She was a full-on genius when it came to brewing.” 

“Try that.” Freya slid a shot glass in front of Phoebe who winked and downed it without hesitation. Freya hummed, impressed. Phoebe proceeded to flush hot pink. She felt an interminable rush racing along her arms, her chest, up her neck. Her throat jumped as though in it more than breath had caught and then … she giggled, like a little girl in ringlets and Mary Jane’s. For a solid minute, she giggled uncontrollably, drawing amused stares from those nearby. “That one,” Freya smirked, “I like to save for tough guys who get drunk and want to start fights on crowded nights.” She offered Phoebe a glass of water. Phoebe struggled to tamp down her spontaneous hilarity enough to manage a few sips. With water, she could feel the influence tapering off and a decidedly pleasant after effect.

“I feel like I just ate pancakes and snuggled with a litter of puppies.” Phoebe grinned widely. “That is amazing.”

“I know right.” Freya laughed, confiding, “We haven’t had a fight in here in months.” Phoebe twisted on her bar stool, people watching while Freya served drinks to eager patrons. They all seemed to have one thing in common, aside from their open appreciation for their bartender. They’d all come thirsty and appeared to be very generous tippers. 

“What about you?” Freya returned. At work on another concoctions with her own special twist, she offered Phoebe an expectant glance.

“Piper brews, I author spells, and Prue casts.” Phoebe forced nonchalance. It hadn’t been quite so in years. This cooperative effort that had landed them so far from home was the very definition of a fluke. “At least, that’s how it was before Piper gave up the craft to play house with our enemy.”

“Then how is it now?” Freya handed the drink to a customer over Phoebe’s shoulder. Phoebe caught site of a fifty dollar bill. The customer walked away, waving off the change.

“Not as good as for you by any stretch of the imagination.” Phoebe quipped, offering Freya’s tip jar a significant look.

“Oh darlin’.” Freya leaned over the bar, lips nearly brushing Phoebe’s ear as she whispered. “That’s not the craft.” Phoebe swallowed, catching the unaccountable scent of lavender and thyme and dark chocolate and the heat of red pepper. Freya drew away, eyes dancing. Phoebe watched the unmistakable sway of hips as she sauntered to the aid of another customer.

“You look like you might have lost something in my sister’s back pocket.” Tall and dark with Freya’s magnetic eyes, he seemed totally unfazed infringing a bit on Phoebe’s personal space. With no excuse that the bar was full, Phoebe counted him lucky he was unavoidably attractive. “I’d call you pal and discourage you from making a pass at her but I hear a rumor you’re staying with us.” He smiled amusement, offering his hand. “I’m Frederick.”

“I’m …” Phoebe trailed off. It really was uncanny, Freya and Frederick both boasted a very similarly distracting aura.

“Free to hit on my sister if you absolutely must.” Frederick grinned.

“D’rick.” Freya materialized before them, sliding a dark frothy beer from the tap her brother’s way. “I see you’ve met Phoebe. Phoebe this is my twin brother.”

“I got the charm.” Frederick announced before taking a lengthy swig of his beer.

“And I got the looks and the brains.” Freya countered. “Drink?” She asked Phoebe who seemed visibly mesmerized by the Beauchamp siblings. Phoebe nodded, eagerly.

“Puppies and pancakes was awesome.” Phoebe mused, “But how about … Cherry red lipstick.”

“In a muscle car.” Freya added.

“Doing 120 down a desert highway.” Frederick closed his eyes, nodding as though right there with them. 

Phoebe arched a brow and Freya, already mixing, confirmed, “Yes, even the cherry red lipstick. On those lips, are you kidding me?” Frederick opened one eye, pursed his lips, and blew Phoebe a kiss. Point taken, she thought, appreciatively.

“I bet when you two were little it was impossible for anyone to tell if your mom had two very pretty boys or two beautiful little girls.”

“Some things don’t change.” Frederick grinned, eyes twinkling in amusement, then sobering explained. “We didn’t exactly grow up together.”

“Yeah, I think I’m about ten lives in give or take, on this world. My mom’s cursed with immortality and perpetual motherhood.” Freya placed a shot glass before Phoebe trailing a fine mist of purple smoke. “And yes that is as awful as it sounds. Every time Ingrid and I die, Mom hasn’t even a day to mourn before she finds herself pregnant with our latest incarnations. Apparently Gramps was a far-looking vengeful bastard when it came to punishments.”

“And I only recently relocated, well escaped, from our insane grandfather and by extension our home world, so …” Frederick shrugged as though it were mundane to say, “In this life, Freya and I have only just met.”

“There might be something to be said for filming a documentary.” Phoebe murmured, then raising her glass in toast to her new friends, downed this latest elixir. She closed her eyes, feeling the exhilaration of liberal speed and the wanton ownership of a truly hot shade of lipstick. “That …” She waved a hand in front of her face. When she turned appreciative eyes on her audience, her pupils were fully dilated.

“Should only be distributed in moderation.” Freya noted, pursing her lips as Phoebe began to languidly sway on her barstool.

“I feel like …”

“Dancing?” Frederick asked, well-prepared to strut his stuff should Phoebe be so inclined.

“Naked under the full moon.” Phoebe added. “Yes, absolutely.

“It’s twenty degrees outside and cloudy but, whatever.” Frederick glanced at Freya. “Post work naked moon dancing?”

“Here, have some more water.” Freya chuckled, waiting for Phoebe to take a sip before stepping away to help another customer.

“You and your sister are …” Phoebe, quirked a half smile.

“Indeed we are.” Frederick replied, nursing his beer.

 

Ingrid tapped softly on the attic door, loathe to wake their guests. She could hear shuffling and after a moment a disheveled, groggy-eyed Prue opened the door.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.” 

“No problem” Prue stifled a yawn. “Everything okay?”

“Uh, no, actually. Paige had a pretty intense nightmare.” Ingrid gestured over her shoulder. “My mom is with her but I thought you might want to …” Prue seemed to blink instantly to full wakefulness.

“Yes.” She stepped out of the room, pulling the door closed softly behind her so as not to disturb Piper. “Please.” Prue nodded for Ingrid to proceed. Ingrid led her to Joanna’s room. Paige perched on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees tight to her chest. The telltale evidence of tears stained her cheeks, and Joanna sat with an arm close about Paige’s shoulders, murmuring softly.

“Hey nugget.” Prue greeted softly. Ingrid hovered, watching from the doorway as Prue walked over to place a gentle hand on the crown of Paige’s head. Leaning down, she pressed a quick kiss to Paige’s thick, dark hair. “Another bad one?” Paige shrugged, not even nodding. They were all bad ones, weren’t they? The only thing that haunted her life as diligently as the Host had been the prophetic dreams and nightmares that nightly plagued her sleep.

“I was just telling Paige how I knew your mom.” Joanna smiled, inviting Prue to have a seat with the tilt of her head. Prue sat on Paige’s other side. “I know this will come as a surprise.” Joanna paused, “Patty and I were close. We met through random chance years before any of you girls were born. I was visiting San Francisco and there she was in this quaint little shop owned by a wiccan priestess,” Joanna smiled wistfully. “The moment I laid my eyes on her I knew. She was resplendent in her power.”

“You weren’t …” Prue’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

“You slept with our Mom?” Paige’s jaw dropped seeing the instant confirmation in Joanna’s eyes.

“You slept with their Mom?” Ingrid squeaked, face turning red.

“I was drawn to her.” Joanna admitted. “Our time together was abbreviated. My girls needed me back here in East End.”

“That would have been the end of our last life cycle.” Ingrid noted. Joanna nodded, a sadness coming into her dark eyes.

“That was a … hard time.” Joanna swallowed, the memory of her daughters’ previous lives, the memories of all their lives prematurely extinguished was ever an open wound. “But Patty and I kept in close touch and she came to visit a few weeks before you were born.” Joanna smiled at Paige.

“I remember.” Prue whispered. It felt as though a veil was drawn away from her eyes with Joanna’s words. “Grams said she was visiting our Aunt Gail. But I knew ...” Prue shook her head. “Grams didn’t often seem flustered but when she told us Mom would be away for awhile, she didn’t look any of us in the eye.”

“She came here because she knew you’d be safe, Paige.” Paige watched Joanna’s face carefully, trying so hard to understand. “You were born in this house.” Joanna said gently. “And she loved you so much from the first moment she laid eyes on you.”

“I was seven.” Ingrid stepped farther into the room. “I remember because Freya had just turned five and she was so excited to get her first big girl bike. Mom remember, you took her to that little park a few blocks away to teach her to ride and I stayed behind.” Joanna smiled nodding in agreement as Ingrid recalled the memory with fondness. Ingrid looked away from her mother to gaze meaningfully at Paige. “You had just been born and your mother was so in awe of you. I watched her, holding you like she’d never let you go. It was impossible really not to watch her. She was just so beautiful and so sad.” Ingrid paused, remembering. “She sang this lullaby.”

“Do you …?” Paige swallowed, blinking as tears continued to seep from her wide eyes.

“I do, I think.” Ingrid closed her eyes, hearing Patricia Halliwell’s voice as though it drifted to her from the past. “And the seasons they go round and round and the painted ponies go up and down. We’re captured on a carousel of time.” Prue joined in, her voice filling out the harmony as Ingrid continued.

“We can’t return we can only look, behind from where we came and go round and round and round in the circle game.”

“You used to sing that to me when I had nightmares.” Paige sniffled, smiling at Prue.

“Joni Mitchell. It was Mom’s favorite.” Prue placed a loving palm against Paige’s cheek. “She began singing that to you long before you were born.”

“She loved you all so much.” Joanna, wiped at her own eyes. “If she had been able she would have come back to you. But she did what she must to ensure your safety.”

“I don’t understand.” Paige shook her head. “Why come here if she still intended to give me up?” Joanna flashed back to that day. Patricia had stayed as long as she might, caring for the child fate would not allow her to raise. At last finding the resolve to return to San Francisco, she’d asked of Joanna one final favor. Joanna had wanted to urge Patricia to stay, to bring her daughters to East End and raise them in a sanctuary safe from the reach of their many powerful enemies. But that would serve no purpose. Truly, the destiny of these girls had long been written. 

“The pendant you wear.” Joanna nodded, pointing to the chain tucked inside Paige’s shirt. “It’s a charm that your mother requested I craft for your protection.”

“What does it do?” Paige asked pulling the piece of jewelry out to scrutinize it as she had countless other times throughout her life. According to her parents, it was the only belonging she had received from her birth mother. This resulted in a lifetime of curiosity that hadn’t diminished even now.

“It links you to me.” Joanna tilted her head ruefully, “Although the one time it alerted me you were in danger, it wasn’t I that came to your rescue.”

“You charmed it.” Paige’s mouth worked in consternation. “You’re the reason this brought Cordy to me, aren’t you?” Joanna nodded.

“Your mother and I reasoned that it would do you little good to bind your powers. You’d need them out there.” Joanna gazed at Paige. “What the safety of the home Patty chose for you didn’t offer was a guide in learning how to use your power. So …” Joanna reached out, cupping her hand around Paige’s, still able to feel the power in the small magical artefact. “We created a conduit between your ability and myself. Thus if you were ever in need, I could be there in an instant.”

“But why did it call Cordelia to it instead?” Prue asked shaking her head in confusion.

“No doubt you’ve figured out Cordelia is …”

“Not like the other kids, yes.” Prue muttered, rolling her eyes. “Story of our life.”

“Well,” Joanna continued. “More accurately, she’s my niece.”

“Cordy’s from Asgard.” Paige pursed her lips nodding. Send in the clowns, she thought wryly.

“Her mother, my sister Helena, died at our father’s hand.” Joanna soberly recounted. “He was once a great man, dearly loved by his people but all that changed. He was poisoned seeking the power of a very ancient artefact. When his ambition was only outstripped by his cruelty, my sisters and I stood against him. He killed Helena as a promise to his people how disloyalty would be met. He cursed Wendy and I, banished us from his kingdom vowing to kill us should we ever return.”

“So we came to Earth.” Ingrid murmured, awestruck. She’d never heard these details of their flight from Asgard before. The fact that she’d had another aunt was news to her.

“Cordelia was quite young, an infant when we arrived. For many of your lifetimes, I raised her with you and Freya, as my own.” Joanna informed her daughter, thinking back to those years when the laughter of three young girls had filled this very house. “After a time, she set out on her own, eager to see this world.” Joanna focused again on Paige and Prue. “She keeps in close touch. Let’s me know she’s safe and happy. Talks at great length about a certain Halliwell sister.” Joanna winked as Prue proceeded to blush profusely.

“We’re …” Prue hedged.

“Figuring things out?” Joanna finished for her with an understanding smile. “Yes, I know.”

“Your accident when you were twelve,” Joanna looked pointedly at Paige and shook her head in admitted confusion. “I can’t say why the pendant called Cordelia to your side instead of me.” Joanna tapped the pendant meaningfully. “But as soon as she saw this around your neck, she recognized it. This,” Joanna intoned, “is our family crest. It bears a sacred duty of protection against tyranny and oppression the likes of which we escaped on Asgard. Each of us, in our turn, may someday be called upon to sacrifice all in upholding such duty.” Joanna patted Paige’s hand where it still cradled the pendant. “Cordelia, may have grown up here on Earth, but she could not have done our royal house on Asgard greater honor than she has in service to you Paige and to you Prue.”

“I understand that your family is powerful and that your home is truly sacred ground.” Paige murmured. “But what connection do you hold to the Host and what can you do to help us against them?”

“Paige,” Prue admonished. Perhaps Prue saw it was outside the lines of politeness our outside Paige’s consideration as the fourth wheel in the Power of Three. After all, Paige had inherited a name, and not a duty to the Charmed world according to most magical text. What was she save the littlest Warren, the last of an ancient line of witches? Not a child though, as a lifetime of jeopardy afforded her some authority, if not entitlement to know where exactly it was they stood beyond safe in the arms of their gracious benefactors.

“What?” Paige glanced at her sister, unapologetic. “It’s fair to ask.”

“Well, they certainly are not our kin.” Joanna replied, amused. “When we arrived from Asgard, we became aware of their presence, brushed them off as local bullies on a primitive world. Perhaps mutual respect for established territory has deterred the eruption of conflict between us and them.”

“Then what benefit in helping us, in helping out mother years ago?” Paige inquired.

“Though we’ve been here lifetimes, we are still only visitors. It is not our intent to alter the course of human history. However …” Joanna shook her head regretfully, “Who could stand by and watch genocide?” She clasped her hands in her lap and regarded Paige grimly. “I pledged an oath to your mother when you were born that I would not allow the last of her line to perish fighting this dreadful war with heaven.”

“We’ve been fighting all our lives.” Paige’s shoulders sagged, finding it impossible to believe that respite might at last be close at hand. “What else is there to do but wait until they finally succeed? We have never been beyond their reach but they are ever beyond ours.”

“My people,” Joanna stood, pacing to the center of her bedroom so that the eyes of Prue, Paige and Ingrid fell upon her like spotlights. “build portals across dimensions. We travel endless space and time in an instant.” Whispering, Joanna waved her hand and a shimmering, liquid sphere appeared. In it, they could see the manor. Night had only just fallen in San Francisco, and the sky was clear and full of stars. “These Host, as you call them, are backwards by our standards.” With another wave of her hand, the sphere, and the manor within it, disappeared. “Like us, they are visitors here, a fact they seem to have forgotten. Perhaps it’s time we reach out and remind them.”

 

“Nightmares? What is she twelve?” Piper snorted, as Prue tip-toed back into the attic room. Prue looked up, seeing Piper awake and immediately abandoned her effort to be considerate. Letting the door close forcefully behind her, Prue stalked farther into the room. She regarded Piper a moment, radiating anger.

“I get it Piper.” Prue spoke lowly, feeling the anger that churned in her rising steadily. “You hate us. You don’t want to be here. But here we are and your family, whatever that may mean, needs you. I know it sounds impossible, but you could try and muster a fledgling sense of loyalty long enough to make sure none of us die violent horrible deaths at the hands of the beings who have hunted us all of our lives. Do you think you could manage that?”

“You think I don’t know loyalty?” Piper sprang from the bed, coming to stand toe to toe. Her eyes in the darkness sparked and Prue nearly took a step back wanting distance from the loathing that seemed to roll off of her sister in waves. “My life these last ten years, has been one endless act of loyalty to you. But how would you know that? You all are so convinced of my treachery. You rather wallow in your self-righteous fiction than consider the facts.”

“What facts, Piper?” Prue pointed, her finger pressing into Piper’s chest. “You gave her to him.”

“I did what he asked, not because I wanted to send a child to her death. Stranger or not, she’s my baby sister too.” Piper shouted. “My sister, who I didn’t get to watch grow up. I didn’t get to help teach her about becoming a witch. I don’t get to hold her after nightmares and tell her everything is alright.” Piper furiously wiped away a stray tear. “You think I sacrificed all of that out of spite? That I would betray my family because I so dearly loved a man, not even a man but a thing, who participated in the destruction of our lives?”

“Why else, Piper?” Prue asked, throwing up her hands in disbelief.

“Because he owned me.” Piper countered. Her face sagged as the truth of her existence surfaced. She wasn’t living a charmed life with a man she loved. She was living out a sentence with her jailer. “The day before Paige arrived, do you remember?” Prue, expression cloaked in careful consideration, nodded.

“Of course, we were battling Shaxx, the assassin hired by the Source.” Prue replied.

“We were injured, you and I.” Piper recalled that day, had for what seemed like a lifetime, along with the damnable decision she’d made. “Leo healed me but you were dying. He said you were in a place between life and death and it was up to me whether or not he brought you back.”

“What did you do Piper?” Prue closed her eyes, hand covering her lips in dismay.

“I took an oath, on my life, an oath I can never break.” Piper reached out tentatively. She hadn’t touched her sisters in what felt like a lifetime. The warmth of Prue’s hand in hers was a balm to Piper’s withered spirit. “I pledged my craft to him and my allegiance in whatever he might bid for the rest of my life.” Piper held on and whispered brokenly, feeling a dam of unshed sorrow burst inside of her. “It was either that or let you die and I never would have forgiven myself for allowing it to happen.”

“Piper.” Prue couldn’t bear the implications. Her sister’s sacrifice and the burden of what Leo had demanded these last years, beginning with Paige.

“I’m sorry, Prue. I’m so goddamn sorry.”

 

Promises To Keep

 

Fingertips graced along the back of her neck. She struggled to open her eyes, blinking against sunlight through curtains spread wide. She squirmed at the tickle of a lazy circle along her cheek bone, the soft pad of a thumb tracing sensitive skin from bridge to the tip of her nose. She sighed at last at the warmth of a palm resting against her cheek.

"You are so gorgeous and I have loved you from the very first moment I set eyes upon this beautiful face." The delicate meeting of lips, prompted Prue at last to full wakefulness.

"And when was that? You have yet to tell me when we truly first met." Prue regarded Cordelia Chase no Cordelia Beauchamp, who seemingly shimmered in the early light of day. She leaned against the pillows, head propped on her elbow, regarding Prue with a delighted grin.

"Met, well that's another story, but I've followed you in my dreams all my life. You've filled enough visions to last me a millennium. And each one breathtaking, because of these eyes." Cordelia leaned forward to kiss Prue's lids. "And this smile." Prue met the kiss with unchecked fervor, unwilling to grasp helplessly at patience.

“I see you chased Piper away.” Prue murmured against Cordelia’s lips, bestowed with a radiant smile for her effort.

“She was downstairs turning out breakfast with the Aunts when I arrived.” Cordelia pressed one last, heated kiss. “Speaking of which,” She yanked back the bed covers, garnering an unhappy groan from Prue. “I am sent to collect you.”

“Couldn’t we just …” Prue turned, snuggling into Cordelia’s chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, basking in Cordelia’s scent. This woman, she thought, giving herself over to the idle feeling of bliss that accompanied everything Cordelia.

“Mmm, no.” Cordelia placed a kiss against Prue’s forehead and reluctantly tore herself away. She got up from the bed. “Duty calls, princess.” She gave Prue’s a well-aimed slap on the rear earning an irate squeal. Prue sat up, eyes flashing indignantly. “We’ve got planning to do. Hurry up and get dressed.” Cordelia raced for the bedroom door, just barely dodging a lobbed pillow. Prue could hear the distinctive sound of Cordelia’s laughter trailing down the attic stairs. She got dressed, quickly seeing to her ablutions and throwing her hair up into a messy pony tail. She was tired. The scrying spell, their impromptu face off with Ingrid, and being up half the night with first Paige then Piper, had all taken a weary toll. The glimpse she’d caught in the mirror of the dark circles under her eyes was ample testament.

Downstairs, the kitchen was alive with morning activity. Prue felt herself perking up in the atmosphere with the notable aid of the aroma of fresh coffee. By the time she had a mug warming her hands, Prue was nearly ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

“Good morning, family.” The back door opened and Freya practically waltzed into the kitchen. Phoebe and a young man with recognizable Beauchamp features accompanied, all with broad grins. Everything about their demeanor seemed to suggest a late night rather than an early morning. Joanna turned momentarily from her attentive work making omelettes.

“Freya, Frederick, Phoebe, just in time for breakfast.” Freya placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek, pulled into a hug for her trouble. Frederick succumbed next.

“We already ate. Waffles at that cute little all night place near the Bent Elbow.”

“Oh my goddess, those waffles .. Phoebe sighed taking a seat at the kitchen table. She snagged a piece of bacon and munched happily. “Hey Cordy.” She greeted languidly. “When did you get here?”

“Hey Pheebs.” Cordelia greeted. “I popped in this morning.” Seated next to Prue, she’d paused mid-conversation at their entrance and now sipped meaningfully from her mug of coffee. It was easy enough for her to recognize the signs of her cousin’s magic having been under its influence herself on many a fair occasion. 

“Wow.” Paige murmured, eyeing Phoebe with open amusement which Prue’s narrowed gaze did not share. 

“Are you high?” Prue asked outright. Phoebe snickered, dropping her head. Her shoulders shook with mirth. Prue knocked on the table in front of Phoebe, waiting to regain her attention. Phoebe sat up but she was entirely focused on Frederick. Her expression left very little to the imagination exactly what she was thinking. Frederick hovered at the opposite end of the table picking grapes from a fruit platter and popping them, perhaps a bit seductively into his mouth. Freya leaned low over Phoebe’s shoulder and stole the last bite of bacon from between loose fingertips quickly usurping Phoebe’s meandering attention. 

“She’s something alright.” Paige snickered, then offered a smile of gratitude as Joanna slid a sizzling omelette before her. Paige dug in, watching the interplay between Phoebe and the Beauchamp twins with mild interest.

“Phoebe, a word?” Prue rose from the table. When Phoebe didn’t immediately move to follow, Prue magicked away the chair in which Phoebe was seated with the flick of her wrist. Phoebe just barely caught herself from plummeting to the ground. She hovered a foot above the kitchen floor, legs splayed comically before her. Rolling her eyes, she brought herself fully upright and floated after Prue into the next room.

“Your whole attitude right now … harsh.” Through the adjacent dining room to the foyer, Phoebe followed. She let her body stretch into a lounging position, resting her head on her left hand. Prue spun, eyeing her with disapproval.

“Please do not sleep with the Beauchamp twins.” Prue hoped that by offering the courtesy of a forthright discussion from the outset, perhaps they could avoid the typical dissembling, leading to a dramatic reveal at a late and inopportune moment.

“What does it matter?” Phoebe shrugged, tucking into a somersault. She tumbled midair in the free space between the stairs and the front door. Prue folded her arms, undeterred by her sister’s light-hearted display. 

“You mean aside from you facilitating their twincest?” Phoebe frowned at the word choice but Prue continued unconcerned. “Possibly because in an alternate universe they’re probably our half siblings.”

“How is that even possible?” Phoebe spun like a figure-skater, arms pulled in tight. Prue counted, willing herself not to magic her sister into a wall.

“Mom and Joanna had a …” Prue swallowed, unaccountably uncomfortable talking about her late mother’s extracurriculars.

“No shit!” Phoebe threw her arms wide, coming to a precise stop. Prue just managed to duck under the arc of Phoebe’s hands. “Patty Halliwell for the Sapphic win.”

“Let’s try not to delve too deeply into Mom winning as you so indelicately put it.”

“Fine. But still, last time I checked,” Phoebe allowed herself to return gracefully to standing, “two women can’t reproduce without the aid of some intervention.” She shrugged wholly unconcerned by the subject matter or its possible implications. “At best they’d be our step or maybe adoptive brother and sisters. And?” Prue’s expression went a long way in pushing her argument in spite of her stony silence. Phoebe snapped her fingers, hit with an exemplary argument, she stated simply, “Greg and Marsha Brady.”

“That’s not entirely accurate.” Wendy supplied. Her silent appearance left Prue and Phoebe alike baffled. She wore only what appeared to be a small quilted throw wrapped around her, though it offered little in the aid of modesty.

“No, I”m almost one hundred percent certain Greg and Marsha were having sex.

“For fucks sake no one cares about the Brady Bunch, Pheebs.” Prue sighed exasperatedly. “Please, go on, Wendy.”

“Well, it wasn’t uncommon on Asgard for two women or two men to be bonded and subsequently for them to have a family. There are magical interventions that make same sex pregnancies a viable option.” Wendy ran the manicured fingers of one hand along the handcrafted weave of the quilt in which she was haphazardly wrapped. She raised her hand to gaze at her nails before resting it on her hip. Prue watched this and the accompanying hair toss barely suppressing a snort of amusement. The woman made idle look like an occupation.

“That’s actually really good information to have.” Phoebe allowed, nodding her appreciation. Brief glimpse into the world of Asgard aside, Prue warranted there remained far more pressing matters.

“Phoebe, do not sleep with the Beauchamp twins.” Prue turned to her sister pointedly waiting for acquiescence that still would not surface. Phoebe simply tilted her head with a foggy, intoxicated smile on her face. Prue only half-believed her sister to be present rather than off in some drug-addled fantasy of a threesome with the albeit very attractive Freya and Frederick Beauchamp.

“Also your sister’s actually right.” Wendy delivered, with significantly impaired interest. It really was all she could do to remain engaged in this conversation when she could be off somewhere grooming. “In another world, your mothers hyphenate and raise you seven kids in the manor. I live in the attic and your Grams has an in-law apartment in the basement. Cordelia lives in an apartment above our family business in Pacific Heights. It’’s an organic specialty cafe and shop that sells herbal botanicals for assorted ailings, failings, and wishes with an adjacent office where I give Tarot readings by appointment.” Wendy took a deep breath, smiled, and made to walk past the Halliwell’s for the stairs.

“You’re kidding?” Prue whispered. Admittedly, she’d laid it on thick. Their mom had a relationship of some significance before meeting their father. That didn’t mean ...

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Wendy glanced back over her shoulder, posed like she was on the cover of Vogue. “There is a world where you and your sisters grow up making s’mores around a campfire with Ingrid, Frederick and Freya.”

“Phoebe …”

“I know. I know.” Phoebe appeared to have returned from whatever fantasy she’d inhabited up until that very moment. “Don’t sleep with the twins. Got it.”

 

Paige fingered the bracelet on her wrist. She hadn’t had a proper moment to reach out to Kara since their parting the prior evening. She hoped Kara wasn’t terribly worried at the delay. Paige gulped a final bite of egg and a last sip of coffee from her mug. Rising from the table, she bustled her cup and plate to the kitchen sink.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Paige demurred catching Joanna’s eye. The Beauchamp matriarch looked up from her work before the stove with a smile of understanding.

“Go right ahead. If you happen to see your sister Piper, tell her breakfast is ready.” Paige nodded and slipped out the back door to the yard.

The garden really was spectacular, even in the midst of winter. Looming white trellises and a thick carpet of green grass drew the eye in the absence of blooming flora. Paige imagined it would be beautiful come spring. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Paige called, spotting PIper seated on a stone bench under an ancient looking tree. Piper gazed momentarily at the ground before getting to her feet and heading into the house. Not a word, not a glance, it was Piper as Paige had come to know her after seven years of stalking and the occasional sniping.

“Prue explained a few things.” Paige called at Piper’s retreating form. Piper’s step faltered but barely slowed.

“I wouldn’t take it back, even now.” Piper replied as she reached the door to the kitchen, disappearing without casting a single look back. Blessed with the curse of family, Paige thought and dug in her back jeans pocket for her phone. No messages to show from Kara, Paige supposed that was a fair indicator that Supergirl was out fighting crime or just allowing a bit of space. 

Hey, the spell worked even better than expected. Which is to say my sisters and I were transported across the country. Oops. I’m in East End Long Island, NY and okay.

There was no immediate response and after five minutes standing in the cold, Paige gave up on the wait. Kara would text when she had time. Back inside, The kitchen table was standing room only. Ingrid, who’d finally made it down for breakfast, had filled the last remaining seat at the table. She talked animatedly with her siblings and Cordelia. Perhaps they had quite a bit of catching up to do. Though they seemed more to be reminiscing from the look of amusement on Prue’s face as she listened. Piper too was in deep conversation with Joanna Beauchamp, comparing omelette recipes it would seem. Wendy perched on the kitchen counter nearby sipping coffee and Phoebe had given into what looked suspiciously like a case on the munchies while studiously ignoring the Beauchamp twins. It was loud and busy and nice, Paige had to admit. She hopped up on the counter next to Wendy.

“Your sister Phoebe compared all this to the Brady Bunch.” Wendy commented, observing at once the jovial atmosphere and Paige’s lack of involvement. “It is, much like, isn’t it?” Paige made a noncommittal face.

“Sure.” She agreed. “Until the Host reach down and tear it all apart bit by bit.” Paige hated feeling like the bearer of grim news, reality come knocking late. “If all of this is truly as safe as you all persist in claiming, why’d my mom leave it?”

“I think Jo asks the very same question from time to time.” Wendy’s reply is soft, barely audible underneath the muddled conversations filling the space. “Your mom desperately wanted to keep you and your sisters from harm. Something discouraged her from believing she could accomplish that here. Perhaps that was a mistake.”

“I’ll say.” Paige grunted finding the situation bitterly ironic. Maybe it wasn’t duty she was running to so much as something else luring her away. “Maybe my father convinced her. Piper can certainly testify to the fact that whitelighters have a unique capacity for manipulation.”

“And where has he been in all of this, your father?” Wendy asked, curious. Paige shrugged, hands gesturing with as much who knows as who cares.

“Couldn’t say.” She replied. “He disappeared when my mom died. Makes me think.” Wendy quirked a brow in question and Paige leveled a knowing if cynical gaze. “The official story is that my mom, the greatest witch in our line predating Prue, died battling a lower level water demon.” Wendy couldn’t say she could make a significant connection there. As if reading Wendy’s confusion, Paige offered quick explanation. “That vanquishing spell is maybe three cuplets with a negligible power draw. It’s the kind of magic I was doing on my own when I was twelve.”

“So … what, the Host?” Wendy ventured, “Killed her?”

“No.” Paige shook her head, nearly laughing at the suggestion. “They don’t get their hands dirty.” The Host, Paige knew, only gave orders and watched civilizations fall from the relative comfort and security of their unadulterated heavens. “But my father, seeking redemption amongst his elders for the seditious act of sleeping with my mother and breeding an abomination ...” Paige trailed off letting the thought finish itself. “Murder is a special kind of penance for angels and as a rule, only Darklighters kill.”

“You can’t possibly know that for sure.” Wendy shuddered considering the kind of blighted creature capable of falling in love only to kill the sole object of its passion at the behest of its master, the so-called arbiter of goodness.

“I know his name.” Paige replied, her eyes darting to rest on Wendy with some significance. “I did a summoning spell once. I called upon my Grams and outright asked who he was. Apparently Penelope Halliwell is a first rate ear hustler even from the hereafter.” Paige leaned in as though sharing just that, gossip. “Do you know the power in the names of angels?” She gazed at Wendy expectantly. Paige’s eyes so wide and so innocent, Wendy found the conversation inexplicably quite unsettling of a sudden.

“No, but surely you’ll tell me.”

“Whitelighters are summoned through the power of their names. But darklighters,” Paige continued her voice low, secretive. “They are thought nameless as they are referred to in text only by symbols. As a rule, this isn’t strictly true.” Paige shook a finger as though dissuading Wendy of the false premise. “Darklighters have names, but much like their place in the good grace of heaven at the right hand of the Host, their names are abandoned.”

“Why?” Wendy asked completely drawn into Paige’s tale.

“As protection.” Paige conferred, lightly and yet to Wendy, senselessly. What protection could that provide? “Whitelighters bear the benefit of true believers in the goodness of their duty, regardless of how false that tenant may be in actuality. Their name is testament. Belief,” Paige’s voice rose a modicum, then fell immediately in deference to the unwanted possibility of drawing an audience. “Even in something so foul and corrupt as the Host, belief is significant when it comes to the craft and intention. Witches, who have been manipulated, thus convinced that whitelighters are allies, protectors, purveyors of goodness, provide an ambrosial feast each time they call out a summons.” Paige swallowed and continued, inadvertently playing to Wendy’s rapt attention.

“Darklighters, however, are weakened by a profound contradiction coupled with the deep fear, reprisal, and hatred that all witches bear them. They are bathed in the blood of countless victims and loyally uphold an ancient duty to dealing death rather than prolonging life. Thus whereas a whitelighter’s name is thought to be a benediction, the summoning of a savior from heaven; a darklighter’s name is a curse.” Paige looked closely into Wendy’s eyes. “True curses are spoken to kill.” 

Paige turned her attention back to the kitchen table and though conversation continued in relative ignorance, Prue raised her head seeking out her little sister as though aware of something amiss. Paige offered a convincing if saccharine smile, turning Prue’s attention back to Cordelia and Ingrid and the twins. Phoebe munched on in bliss, and even Piper seemed to enjoy the pleasant interaction with Joanna. Wendy blinked at the dichotomy of Paige’s words and the girlish, light-hearted expression she’d adopted under Prue’s scrutiny.

”Paige …” Wendy placed a hand on Paige’s knee, watching the girl as she watched their mutual family. It was idyllic if one could ignore the encroaching threat of the Host from afar.

“Someday,” Paige whispered. She placed her hand over Wendy’s, fingers clasping firm as an oath she’d sworn numerous times. “I’ll meet my father and call him by name.”

 

East End Welcomes You

Phoebe curled, exhausted on the Beauchamps’ living room sofa. She couldn’t rightly remember the last time she’d greeted the morning on the tail end of a long night in a bar. Prue and Cordelia had disappeared upstairs after breakfast and Phoebe had taken that as a cued opportunity to catch up on rest. Assisting in the day to day of raising a magical teenager had swiftly welcomed Phoebe among the rank and file of adulthood. She was in bed before eleven most nights. When Paige was in high school, she and Prue had taken turns attending PTA meetings and carpooling for school events. Academic competitions and Friday nights at the high school to watch Paige cheer at football games had been scheduled carefully around work obligations. There was no longer any time or inclination to stay out all night drinking. Phoebe had resolutely left those days behind and subsequently realized over the course of seven years, she’d never broken her promise to be home on Sundays for family time. A late brunch in the kitchen, working the craft in the attic, and home-cooked dinner in the dining room Sunday evening had been a strictly adhered to tradition well into Paige’s college years. Most importantly, Phoebe never begrudged these adaptations made to her life which ensured Paige finished growing up in a happy and relatively safe environment. It had all been well worth it. 

“Ignis.” Freya snapped her fingers, setting the wood in the fireplace to an instant blaze. Phoebe hummed appreciation feeling a wave of warmth with the crackle and spark. She allowed her eyes to open in barely recognizable slits. Earlier, Freya had disappeared upstairs for a shower. She stood now in patterned leggings and a terribly well-fitted t-shirt, damp hair curling down around her shoulders. With the firelight warming her caramel complexion, she was an absolute vision. Phoebe shifted, feeling her pulse race and energy tingle along her backbone. Freya offered Phoebe a sympathetic grin. “Perhaps I should have warned you to pace yourself last night.”

“I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Phoebe replied, blinking sleepy-eyed to follow Freya’s graceful steps from beside the fireplace. She slipped onto the edge of the couch near Phoebe’s feet and ran a soothing hand in circles along Phoebe’s hip, generating even more heat in the now toasty room.

“You don’t have to nap on the sofa. My bed’s a bit roomier than this and I don’t mind sharing.” Phoebe considered the offer and Freya’s wide smile. It was certainly tempting. But the fire was so warm and the couch cushions so deep, Phoebe could already feel her eyes drifting closed again.

“I just need twenty minutes.” She sighed, and yawning let herself drift freely. Freya rose from her seat, intending to leave Phoebe to slumber, but was halted in her progress as she passed. Freya glanced down to the unexpected hand on her wrist. Eyes closed, Phoebe murmured a simple but compelling, “Stay.” Smiling, happy to oblige, Freya tucked herself under Phoebe’s arm. A twenty minute nap sounded perfectly lovely, Freya thought, as she settled in, delighting in the steady, warm breath against the back of her neck. Phoebe held on, arm sliding snug around Freya’s waist, both fitful in sleep no more than a moment later.

Wendy peaked into the living room, shaking her head indulgently at the sight that greeted her. With a whisk of manicured fingers in the air, she directed a quilted blanket over the pair asleep on the sofa. It would be interesting to continue to observe that interplay. There had been a notable chemistry between the Halliwell girl and the twins at breakfast. It had certainly been distracting. Frederick had no doubt himself found a quiet place upstairs to recharge. Wendy wondered if he’d hoped Phoebe would join him. If he did, clearly he’d miscalculated.

Drawn by the sound of knocking at the front door, Wendy abandoned her voyeurism. She opened it with a flourish, only mildly surprised at the face which greeted her. “So you are the child from Krypton.” 

 

“I’m Kara.” She extended her hand only to have it grabbed and pulled into the house with no small amount of enthusiasm. 

“We are not overly familiar with your world.” Wendy grinned. “I’m Wendy.” Kara had rehearsed an easy going smile during her flight. She hoped it looked far less practiced than it felt.

“Among my people, your race is spoken of more in terms of myth than on any factual basis.” Kara babbled nervously as she allowed herself be led through the lovely New England home. It really was well-appointed and cozy. It reminded Kara of Danvers farm in Midvale. She felt a pang of home-sickness which she quickly tamped down. “Although it is generally accepted throughout mythology that your people were very adept at creating and traversing holes in space. Whether or not that’s true ...”

“And time.” Wendy corrected. She gifted Kara a borderline smug wink. “And, yes, true.” They halted in the kitchen doorway, Wendy announcing slyly, “Look who’s here.” Paige, head bent in close proximity to a redhead over a very large book, glanced up. A broad smile immediately lit up, making her button nose wrinkle and the freckles dusting her cheeks all the more noticeable for the energetic glow soon suffusing her features.

“Kara!” Paige rocketed into Kara’s arms, squeezing the girl of steel for all she was worth. “You came!” She pulled back to give Kara’s outfit a once over. “Um, what exactly is it that you’re wearing?”

“Ah, well …”Kara glanced down at her uniform then back up at the expectant faces. “Long story.”

“I thought Supergirl wore a cape.” Ingrid tilted her head quizzically, taking in the whole of Kara’s appearance.

“I’m not …” Kara hedged unsure how to couch her disavowal of her crime-fighting alter ego.

“She prefers Kara. Supergirl is … on sabbatical, indefinitely.” Paige gave Kara’s hand a supportive squeeze. 

“Kara this is Ingrid Beauchamp.” Paige introduced. “She’s a very talented spell author.” Ingrid blushed at the praise. She’d learned more in the few hours she’d spent pouring over a handful of her mother’s books with Paige at her side than she could truthfully claim to have puzzled out on her own since discovering she was a witch a few short months earlier.

“Pleased to meet you.” Ingrid smiled. She eyed Kara a moment before returning her attention to the large tome on the table. Kara arched a brow in appraisal. Not exactly a warm welcome. Clearly her arrival had interrupted whatever fascinating study was in progress here in the Beauchamp’s kitchen.

“You’ve met Wendy. She’s Ingrid’s aunt.” Wendy gave Kara’s shoulder a warm pat. “Prue’s upstairs with Cordelia who you’ll meet later, Phoebe’s …” Paige paused eyes squinting momentarily as if trying to sense Phoebe’s location. Kara wondered if Paige in fact had the power to accomplish just that.

“Napping.” Wendy supplied helpfully. “In the living room with Freya.”

“Freya’s my sister.” Ingrid chimed in without pulling her attention away from whatever had so completely captured it.

“Late night” Paige murmured significantly, “Prue’s going to love that.” She confided with a snicker. “Piper is out back with Ingrid’s Mom, Joanna. They’re gathering herbs from the greenhouse for a brew.”

“And my nephew Frederick is around somewhere.” Wendy added. “The house hasn’t been this full in over a hundred years.” Kara stared blankly waiting for the punch line. When none was forthcoming she simply nodded, wide eyed. “Cup of tea?” Wendy asked moving over to the stove. She grabbed the tea kettle intending to fill it with water. Breakfast would feel like a distant memory soon enough. Never too early to get started on lunch. “Must be quite a flight from … National City is it?”

“About two hours.” Kara replied, trying not to fidget. She wished she had pockets in this outfit so she’d know what to do with her hands.

“Wow.” Ingrid looked up, interest momentarily captured. “That would be something like …”

“A little over fifteen hundred miles per hour, roughly two times the speed of sound.” Kara preened.

“That’s enough to work up an appetite.” Wendy set the kettle on the stove to boil and headed for the kitchen door. “Let’s see if I can’t convince Joanna to get started on lunch a bit early.”  
“Please don’t go to any trouble on my account.” Kara demurred politely earning an amused look from Paige.

“You’re in a house full of witches.” Paige laughed. “Nothing burns calories quite like the craft save maybe traversing the continental United States in two hours.”

“It’s no burden and you are quite welcome here.” Wendy encouraged just as she slipped out the back door.

“Mom’s a great cook and she’s happiest when the house is full of guests.” Ingrid reassured, gesturing for Kara to make herself comfortable in one of the seats around the table. Kara slid into a chair on Paige’s other side. She really didn’t want to interrupt whatever they’d been doing when she arrived. She had enjoyed watching Paige work before at the manor. 

“Seriously though, what’s with the unitard?” Paige plucked at the material at Kara’s wrist.

“It’s a uniform.” Kara bit her lip, then in a rush explained. “I suppose I hadn’t mentioned my recently deceased aunt was the commanding officer of an army of Kryptonians escaped from a prison called Fort Roz.” Kara shifted uncomfortably, seeing the look on Paige’s face. “With the death of her husband.” Kara cleared her throat, reddening, “I seem to have inherited the position.”

“What position is that exactly?” Paige inquired, focusing ever more intently on Kara’s increasingly disturbed expression. The conversation seemed to have recaptured Ingrid’s attention as well.

“Army?” Ingrid mouthed in slight disbelief.

“General.” Quickly, to deter any questions, Kara added, “I am the last remaining daughter of the House of El. It falls to me.”

“What exactly is it that’s falling to you?” Paige asked softly.

“Aside from command?” Kara swallowed, feeling the weight of what she’d inherited with a measure of nerves that hadn’t arisen when she’d faced her people, the last daughters and sons of Krypton. “Survival in the face of extinction.”

“I could have sworn you told me that your aunt was killed for professing a very similar mission statement?” Paige found Kara’s hand under the table. She clasped it, hoping to convey her concern without giving the impression of wagging a finger of shame.

“She did.” Kara nodded. “And the Department of Extranormal Operations may very well come after me for stepping in to take her place. It hasn’t proved a popular decision with …” Kara paused, finding it difficult to admit.

“With Alex?” Paige finished softly. Kara nodded, feeling her throat constrict with emotion. No tears, she warned herself. Not now. Not here.

“My inheritance may have provided an unexpected solution to your problem with the Host.” It was an ideal detour in subject, a distraction from the pain blooming at the thought of Alex. From a hidden pocket in her uniform, Kara produced a small blue crystal that fit snugly in the palm of her hand. “And I have something you’re going to want to hear.” Paige peered at the crystal in open curiosity as Kara placed it in the center of the kitchen table. As Kara’s fingertips retreated, a heads up holographic display appeared.

“Woah.” Paige breathed in wonder. “Fancy.” 

“This writing, what does it say?” Ingrid asked, equally astounded as she tried to capture meaning from rows upon rows of script in unfamiliar characters floating before her eyes. 

“It’s Kryptonese. But I think I’ve managed a passable English patch for machine translation.” Kara gestured and the script began to scroll. A computerized narrator spoke.

The House of Justice on Naltor was once ministered by the W’Arr En clan. The W’Arr En clan was summarily removed from this position when an ethical conflict arose over the use of primitive lifeforms on other planets in weapons research. The House of Defense ministered by the Ev An’Ost clan determined that their research efforts were beyond the scope of the House of Justice during times of conflict. As the Naltorians were in an unevenly pitched war against their long time enemy the Gresh of Kahan Eight, there was little resistance when the Ev An’Ost clan enacted a coup and overthrew the W’Arr En. Through a series of violent attacks culminating in the near eradication of the W’Arr En, any and all resistance against the House of Defense was quickly put down. Austere off-world research and development measures persisted through the end of the conflict with the Gresh. Reportedly, some few members of the W’Arr En managed an escape from Naltor and sought refuge in a neighboring galaxy. In subsequent generations, the Ev An’Ost were sanctioned for violent acts against ministerial leaders and unethical research practices. Removed from the House of Defense by the reformed House of Justice, the Ev An’Ost were exiled from Naltor. 

“It’s from a history text.” Kara clarified at the abrupt end of the narration.

“And you believe ….” Paige trailed off, uncertainly.

“I believe the Ev An’Ost are your so-called Heavenly Host.” Kara confirmed. “They were using Earth and its inhabitants as subjects for their research in biological warfare.”

“The W’Arr En must have followed them here, tried to stop them.” Paige pondered. “They weren’t escaping persecution. They were seeking justice for the human race.” Kara gestured again, her fingers waving before the hologram. The display changed in response, flipping to a representation of what could only be described as a vehicle.

“The Naltorians have relatively parallel technology to that of Kryptonians.” Kara pointed at the vehicle specifically. “This is a deep space vessel once utilized in exploration and colonization of distant planets in neighboring galaxies.” Kara chewed her lip, eyeing the display contemplatively a moment before continuing. “At the time in question, Naltor would have implemented the use of generational ships. I would equate the size and carrying capacity of such a vessel to that of Gotham or National City.” Paige whistled, impressed.

“And you think one of these vessels, is up there right now?” Ingrid asked, Paige nodded toward the ceiling.

“It could easily be cloaked or hidden anywhere in the solar system.” Kara replied.

“That means, Heaven and the underworld …” Paige’s eyes darted a moment as though trying to wrangle her thoughts.

“Are actually part of a vessel in space and very likely a holographic mimicry of Human mythology?” Kara finished for her. “Yes.”

“Holy shit.” Paige awestruck, stood and proceed to pace, long legs eating up the floor of the Beauchamps’ cozy kitchen. She stopped, facing Kara with a feral look in her eyes. “We could find them, couldn’t we?” Kara spared Ingrid a glance that was more request than acknowledgment. 

“With an assist from a bit of Asgardian ingenuity, no place, least of all their spacecraft, are beyond our reach.” Kara confirmed.

“Then it’s settled.” Paige paced back, placing her fists on the table and glaring at the holographic display of the immense space-faring vessel. “We’ll storm the gates of heaven and bring the Host to their knees.”

 

Family Meeting

 

“Have you ever led an army in battle?” Kara appraised Frederick Beauchamp. He and his sister Freya certainly had a way about them, very seductive. Their aunt Wendy seemed to share a bit of that unspoken power leaving Kara to wonder if it was not just hereditary but some deeply rooted part of their craft. 

“I grew up in Midvale, California and I’ve spent the last four years since graduating from college as an assistant to the head of a media conglomerate.”

“That’s an unequivocal no.” Paige clarified for Frederick’s benefit. Lunch had moved them all into the much more accommodating dimensions of the dining room. Joanna Beauchamp was indeed a great cook. With Piper’s glad assistance, she’d laid a mid-day spread that would rival those common to any major holiday celebrated on Earth. Frederick must have been sent on a mission in preparation for he had returned laden with numerous, overflowing paper bags bearing the logo of the local East End grocer. When the table was set and Beauchamps, Halliwells and a single Kryptonian refugee sat, there seemed to be nearly enough to even leave Kara achingly stuffed.

Paige and Ingrid had taken ready advantage of the timely assembly and presented Kara’s idea, not yet a plan. It hadn’t exactly met with stunning approval.

“Paige, you’re talking about all out war. It’s not like coaching a Soccer team.” Prue shook her head. “We can’t just jump into this.” Cordelia sought out Prue’s hand under the table. Her eyes counseled patience. Cordelia hadn’t balked at what Paige and Kara proposed. Though Cordelia had been but a small child when her family departed Asgard, she knew well the wage of war, had paid it as witness to the death of her parents. But her grandfather was a cruel man who dealt evil deeds upon his people. It is against tyranny such as this perpetrated by the Host which her parents fought seeking freedom and ultimately sacrificing their lives. Witnessing it here again on a planet so far from home, Cordelia could not argue against a fight, regardless the tragic cost sure to be reaped before the end.

“There will be actual lives at stake.” Prue insisted. 

“Yes, ours, as they always have been,” Paige argued, “ceaselessly at stake until now. We finally have the means to change everything. We could live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

“It could take years to plan the kind of precision offensive necessary to locate, secure actionable intel, and invade this vessel.” Phoebe pointed out.

“Actionable intel, Phoebe?” Paige smirked. “You wouldn’t even know that phrase had we not binge-watched Homeland together.”

“Herein my point exactly.” Prue murmured. “This is not a joke. You’re still just a kid.”

“War is no place for children.” Frederick agreed.

“Uh, condescending, much?” Ingrid defended, pinning her technically younger but physically older brother in a disapproving glare.

“I am not a child.” Paige enunciated carefully, incensed at being so typically discounted.

“Spend a millennia leading an army then you and your friend here can tell me how grown up you are.” Frederick retorted, taking a meaningful swig from his bottled beer. The table grew silent again. Paige was unsure if the discussion had ruined lunch or simply inspired those around her to consider what she proposed.

“We’ve seen the most horrific tenants of war on our home world. It is a reality we have no wish to revisit here.” Joanna broke the quiet, her voice nearly as still, eery in its calm. “What you propose, Kara, it is not an easy thing to undertake. There will be casualties and consequences the likes you’ve never contemplated.”

“Mom warded East End when our family first arrived from Asgard. This town is invisible to any outside who would intend us harm.” Freya pointed out, wincing as Ingrid regarded her with incredulity at the implication. “You could all be safe here.”

“In a gilded cage?” Paige shook her head. “What about the countless witches out there without the benefit of Asgardian protectors?”

“So instead you’ll risk your lives, start a war that could violently impact the human occupants of this planet?” Everything in Wendy’s expression seemed to attribute folly in this proposed course of action.

“Is there any true alternative?” Kara asked first Wendy, then Joanna, and Frederick. “Is there?” She turned at last to Prue. “Do you live in peace now or under siege?” Kara directed her question at Prue. “Well, do you?”

“We’ve already lost so much, Kara.” Prue shook her head.

“And the only time loss stops being meaningful is when you’re dead.” Paige countered. “We could live our lives, Prue. We could die of natural causes and not cut down by some enterprising assassin.” Paige looked to Piper who had remained so silent, watchful. “We could have families.” Piper grit her teeth, rising as though to leave. It was the one thing even Paige knew Piper dreamed, marriage and children. Years before, the Charmed Ones had seen a future blessed by the posterity of a new generation of Halliwell witches. Piper had long clung to the hope that future may yet come true. But hope is an endangered thing, that expires after such endless waiting. 

“Don’t” Prue raised a hand. Piper froze, wanting nothing more than to walk away. The look in Prue’s eyes was a challenge, pleading with her to stay.

“We’ve orbed into the underworld before.” Paige pointed out.

“No, you’ve orbed into a holographic construct meant to appear to you as the underworld. For all you know it is a Faraday Cage from which neither you nor your magic can escape.” Wendy countered. “That makes your one capability the least probable means of infiltration.”

“Without the ship’s location or schematics of its layout, it would be impossible to create a reliable portal not to mention foolhardy.” Joanna shook her head. “It’s far too easy to miss the mark in space. That’s not a chance worth taking.”

“Finding the ship isn’t the issue.” Kara pointed out. “My people have sufficient means to locate and track a vessel residing in this system.”

“So then what is the issue?” Phoebe asked. “Because if logistically we could plan an attack, what’s stopping us?” Phoebe conjectured, “How can we deny Paige’s point and thus wait for our enemies to persist as they have? We’re talking about thousands of years of being hunted, here. To finally be in possession of a legitimate chance, these times of strife for all witches could at last be at an end.” Phoebe looked around the table, meeting the eyes of her sisters and these new allies, new friends. “We’ve long been warriors in battle. Have we not wielded the craft as our weapon? The suggestion cannot truly be that we stop finally faced with the evening of odds after having struggled long against the Host’s superior advantage?”

“We could all die.” Piper finally broke her silence.

“Any day.” Paige replied. Frederick gazed thoughtfully first at Paige, but his attention soon came to rest on Kara. 

“Perhaps with knowledge of the full capabilities of your army, we could erect a plan worthy of consideration.” 

 

Winter in New England licensed the bitter cold and early sunsets. From the roof, Kara could see well into the darkness and felt a longing for that which lay beyond and distant. The air crisp, there was a clarity brought on by the shimmer of starlight and the waxing moon. Early yet, below her a palpable sense of urgency built between the walls and for which she could hear some evidence. The Charmed Ones and Paige were close at work in the kitchen, deliberating spells and potions. It could be handiwork for the fighting ahead. The Beauchamp women too were caught up in the toil of their craft in the family’s dining room. The manufacture of portals was very complex magic. The preparation for which could require a great deal more than just collective effort. 

Kara had left Frederick in the living room where in the hours since lunch he’d carefully poured over the data crystal. He’d needed Kara’s help in navigating and translating but had given in when she’d made her excuses saying she was in need of a breath of fresh air. Floating above the Beauchamp home, she felt weary and wanted so desperately to sleep. When had she slept last? She’d wandered, grieving her aunt. The solitary and solemn parts of the world she’d seen had seemed fitting to the period of her mourning. But the tide on which she drifted had ebbed, flowed, and never ceased over the last two and a half weeks. Though she’d come to find this unexpected distraction in the troubles these Halliwells and Beauchamps faced; she still felt a predominant compulsion brought on by her grief. She’d had no respite because there was nowhere on Earth to find it. She was not human and the culture of Earth defied the emptiness spreading inside of her. Astra In-Ze had been her last best hope of home rekindled to fill that hollow place. And now gone again, Kara feared what had been left numb might soon give way to a greater desperation than she’d ever encountered in twelve years bidding a recovery that never quite seemed to take. 

Her shoulders drooped as she lent consideration to her own exhaustion. Without realizing it, she’d drifted downward, her feet landing on solid ground.

“There you are.” Paige, Kara acknowledged, standing on the front porch as though waiting.

“Here I am.” Kara murmured, slowly tracing the steps to Paige’s side. She leaned in, placing a soft kiss against Paige’s lips, cool and blue tinged at the hand of New England night. Paige appeared only slightly surprised.

“Are you tired?” Paige asked, hands stuffed in her pockets. Her teeth chattered. She hadn’t bothered to borrow a jacket. Neither she nor her sisters had ventured more than momentary footsteps outside since they’d arrived from San Francisco. Shirt sleeves and jeans and runners were no match here for the weather. But Paige would blink back to the manor soon enough to better outfit what may yet evolve into a longer stay. “Ingrid said you can crash in her room. Cordy and Prue will be up in the attic so you might want to restrict your super hearing tonight.” Paige grimaced and shivered. She nodded pointedly towards the door. “Come. There’s still a ton of chocolate chip cookies leftover from dinner. I think we should stake a proper claim. Phoebe sleep eats.” 

“I feel as though I haven’t closed my eyes in weeks.” Kara whispered. She followed behind Paige dutifully.

“You look as though you haven’t.” Paige nodded ready agreement. Grabbing Kara’s hand, she led the way through the foyer to the stairs and Ingrid’s bedroom above. “I think Phoebe’s next door with the twins.” Paige pointed to a closed door along their way. “I reiterate, it’s really in your own best interest to mute your super hearing if you can.” Paige shoved Kara indelicately to sit on the small sofa in Ingrid’s room. It was cozy and Kara might just fit. Paige knelt, helping Kara off with her boots. “This uniform of yours.” Paige shook her head.

“I know, it makes a much less impressive statement than the cape.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” Paige replied with a shake to long chestnut locks. “It definitely makes an impression.” Kara quirked a quizzical brow, that encouraged Paige’s further elaboration. “You’ve seen how xenophobic humans can be about aliens. You look like the first wave of the invasion force in this get up. Jammies?” Paige grinned, trying her hardest not to laugh at Kara’s befuddlement. Truth told, it wasn’t a terrible look but it certainly didn’t inspire confidence that there weren’t anal probes and alien pregnancies in Earth’s immediate future. Hands on Kara’s knees, Paige rose to her feet with a light push.

“I won’t claim that wasn’t my Aunt’s plan or her husband’s for that matter.” Kara sighed mightily. She undid the hidden clasp on her suit. She’d been informed by her second in command that it had been designed to provide protection against beams of green and red Kryptonite. Strong enough to withstand bullets and tranquilizer darts, Kara had donned the uniform as prophylaxis against any attack the DEO might launch while she flew above National City. 

“And your plan?” Paige dug indiscreetly through the drawers of Ingrid’s armoire, producing a graphic t-shirt with a sound of triumph. Kara eyed the garment warily. “What?” Paige looked at the royal blue tee with the famous red insignia on the front. “Who doesn’t have one of these? Target sells them by the metric ton, I’m sure.” She tossed Kara the t-shirt and tried, failing miserably, not to watch as Kara stripped out of the uniform. Technically she wasn’t naked underneath, if one could count the skimpy briefs. Paige swallowed, loudly to non-human ears, drawing a wry look from Kara.

“My plan is to set the injustice your family has suffered right and bring thousands of years of enmity to an end.”

“That didn’t sound at all practiced.” Paige replied. She stepped over to join Kara on the couch. She looked good in blue, Paige noted thoughtfully. She reached out to play with auburn strands before running a hand along Kara’s well-muscled shoulder. Ingrid’s shirt was a bit snug in all the right places. “What happens after? Say we manage to defeat the Host. What then?”

“I don’t know.” Kara shrugged, though she did know. She knew very clearly what she intended once she defeated the Halliwell’s ancient enemy. She intended … Downstairs the doorbell rang and Kara could hear Joanna wondering aloud who would visit at this late hour.

“Uh Kara …” Joanna’s voice drifted up the stairs a moment later. Kara glanced down at her bare feet and bare legs, then to Paige.

“Pants?” Paige smiled sheepishly and jumped up to dig for something suitable. By the time Kara was more appropriately attired, she had a clear understanding of why Joanna was calling her downstairs. “I’ll be right back.” Paige watched a moment, puzzled as Kara slipped silently out of the bedroom. She waited, debating before giving in to actual tip-toeing and hovered at the top of the stairs. Kara spared Joanna a quick nod to ease the woman’s concern before stepping out of the front door.

 

“What are you doing here?”

“Why would you even ask?” Alex regarded Kara with stony reserve. “I’ll always come.”

“I know.” Kara replied keeping herself at full arm’s length. Alex was not dressed in her tac gear, just jeans and a coat suitable to the frigid weather. “When I’ve needed you, Alex, that’s when you’ve come. But I don’t need you right now and … I more concerned with who may have accompanied you on this impromptu visit.”

“Do you think I’d bring a team?” Alex threw up her hands. “I’m trying to salvage this before Hank or anyone else above him has the chance to suggest such measures are necessary.”

“How’d you find me?” Kara looked away and slid past Alex to take a seat on the front steps. Cold from the brick and mortar of the porch seeped quickly through the material of the leggings Paige had found. She felt her bum go numb in an instant. Alex joined her, shoulders brushing, and for a moment Kara harkened back to a time when they were kids. They’d sit on the front porch at Danvers farm, sharing an ice cream cone and listening to the still of an evening. Nearby crickets and crashing waves in the far off, but not so distant they couldn’t taste salt on the air.

“I cloned your cell phone.” Alex couldn’t help the mischievous smirk and even Kara felt a grin slipping past her defenses.

“Sneak.”

“I am a highly trained operative of a super secret government agency.” Alex shrugged. “Actually, I just used the google app to locate your position.”

“Is that what they call spy craft?” Kara joked.

“It’s what I had.” Alex replied. “I couldn’t use DEO resources.” Alex swallowed, unable to maintain the levity. “We don’t have a lot of time, Kara. You’ve made a lot of people very nervous. We have to fix this.”

“We have to fix us, you mean.” Kara bit her lip, falling prey to the imploring in Alex’s gaze. “I don’t know how to … just go back as though nothing has happened as though everything hasn’t changed.” Kara looked out across the street, peered at the homes of the Beauchamp’s neighbors but didn’t allow herself to invade their privacy. “Do you know what it’s like to fight every single day?” Alex nodded but Kara shook her head no. “No, Alex, my responsibility since I put on that cape has been only to fight every single day. Tell me you know what that feels like?”

“Kara I’m a soldier. It’s my job to fight.” Alex tried to explain

“Then you know it feels angry and it feels sad and I can’t justify living like that, fighting every day.” Kara could feel herself pleading, arguing for Alex’s comprehension. “Humankind can with conscious effort choose to eradicate their own crime, and needs must, fight their own criminals. I am ultimately just a person and not a necessity to an accomplishment that must be achieved by your race not by an appointed savior from beyond the stars.” 

“No one expects you to save us, Kara.” Alex tried and received incredulity for the effort.

“Everyone expects me to save them, even you. But I cannot be diminished to a tool implemented in violent reprisal against wrongdoing. Not anymore.” Kara clasped her hands above her knees, holding on for dear life. “If I am to be a hero, it is to a greater purpose than I ever pursued in the cape.”

“Then what do you intend to do here? What do you intend to do with Astra’s army?” Alex asked, no longer the DEO agent but finally a sister trying to understand. “Just tell me and I’ll do everything I can to make this right.”

“Alex, right may be beyond our control.” Kara gazed again upon her sister’s face, hopeful. Alex was resilient in ways that had unmistakably taught Kara how to survive the pain that riddled her life on this planet. “I’m going to help the people in this house to wage war against heaven.”

“Rao’s sake, Kara.” Alex took a deep breath seeing the glint of steel in her sister’s expression. Whatever this was, Kara was invested which meant Alex had a new mission imperative in her singular drive to be Kara’s protector. “Tell me.”

 

The Nearer End

 

When Kara had returned, she’d done so with intention burning in her blue eyes. Paige watched silently as she shed pajamas for her uniform. 

“Who was at the door?” Paige asked, halting Kara before whatever preparations she was making could progress so far as to include a sudden departure. Paige would know where Kara was going before she moved to set foot from this room.

“Alex.” Kara murmured fastening clasps and sitting to put on her boots. “My sister.” She clarified though knew it unnecessary. “She tracked my cell phone.”

“And what is she planning now that she knows you’re here.” Paige crossed her arms, more than simple concern leaking from her rigid posture. Alex had listened without comment as Kara had explained in careful exposition the long history of Alien incursion on Earth and how exactly it affected these strangers Kara had only just met days before. And when Kara had made it clear that her intervention was necessary if she truly intended to be a hero, Alex had looked grim but nodded agreement. She’d promised to smooth things over with Hank and keep the DEO out of the way. When she’d stood to leave, catch a plane and begin the campaigning necessary to keep Kara out of a cell lit by kryptonite lamps, Alex had done just as Kara expected. She’d promised to stand at Kara’s side, fight and Kara had done as she must and declined. She couldn’t risk Alex’s life. These Host were not like the convicts on the loose from Fort Roz. These beings that flauted omnipotence were what humans termed evil and Kara would not allow Alex to be touched by what lay ahead.

“She’s going to make sure I’m not hunted like my Ktryptonian brethren.” Kara rose, eyes locking on Paige. Her expression making it clear it was time for her to go. “She’ll make sure I remain under the radar.”

“Then you have no place you actually have to go, right now.” Paige stepped forward, making it clear she had no intention of stepping aside to watch Kara disappear.

“Your family was right, Paige.” Kara shook her head. “I cannot risk lives. I made a promise, that I need to keep.”

“What promise? To risk only your life? To go out alone as though it wouldn’t matter to anyone that you were in danger or that you could benefit from a little fucking help?” This whole situation with Kara’s sister challenged Paige’s incredulity. She found the entire situation unreal. Alex appears as if out of the either and suddenly here was Kara unable to see that her life was still considered a sacrifice and there was nothing worthy of it. Paige couldn’t understand what kind of sister would be okay with that. 

“Paige, I may not know who Supergirl is anymore,” Kara took a deep breath, secure. “But I know I am still a hero.” She reached out brushing her fingers against the intricate sculpture in glass Paige wore on her wrist. Paige pulled Kara forward into her arms. She held on tight as though that alone could deter Kara’s decision.

“If that’s your promise. you don’t have to be alone.” Paige whispered.

“I promised I wouldn’t let her down.” Kara pulled herself away as though she were pulling herself apart and looked intently at Paige. She had to make nothing more clear in this moment than the finality of her decision. “She told me I never could.” Paige took a steadying breath against the sudden staunch pain of reality settling. She reached up and removed the pendant she’d worn all of her life from around her neck. Holding it between her palms, she whispered and her fingers danced until light arced in the gaps between her hands. Illuminated, the artefact at its very core, changed. When the light dimmed and her lips stilled, she placed the pendant around Kara’s neck and gazed. Kara’s eyes demanded confidence and this Paige offered in favor of sadness.

“Then you’ll go, and be protected.” She placed a quick kiss against Kara’s lips and stepped aside. Kara hesitated only a moment fingertips light on the bracelet at Paige’s wrist. She could feel the steady beat of Paige’s unique rhythm and in it the final modicum of resolve she needed to place one foot forward until the steps could no longer be counted.

 

“General Kara.” Kara acknowledged her second in command with a slight tip of her head. “Your orders have been fulfilled. We await your command.” The old guard, loyal to Non, had not proven useful as Kara had suspected. Her choice to execute Astra’s husband, hadn’t resulted in retaliation. Her choice not to mourn him had rankled some. There had been a profusion of coffins cast to the darkness. But there were still a great many whose allegiance was true.

“Have you found it?” Kara regarded the young woman, a soldier yes, but she looked not to have seen a battlefield for the uncharacteristic innocence of a round face and wide eyes. She wore her blonde hair in a severe bun, and held herself, even in posture, to an uncompromising standard that belied her age. 

“Yes General.” Commander Lesla-Lar, gestured for Kara to heed the holographic display as she pulled up the information in question. “It is as suspected, a generational base ship, ancient really. We detect energy readings suggesting the engines, though idle, may yet function.” Lesla-Lar nodded at the display. “As you can see the vessel is hidden on the far side of this planet’s moon. We believe it to be lightly cloaked, enough so to escape human detection though not impervious to our scans.”

The vessel was vast, Kara’s comparisons to Gotham and National City severely underestimated the actual population that could easily be supported on that craft. Realizing this, she determined there may be little choice but to lay siege with the full might of her forces. Kara looked on as Lesla-Lar pulled up another screen, this one illuminating the resources currently at their disposal.

“We have sufficient pods to accommodate a small expeditionary force.” Lesla-Lar turned away from the display and addressed Kara directly. “I’ve personally chosen a squad of five whose loyalty to you was demonstrated in their successful effort to silence the dissent of those who disagreed with your handling of Non. We are ready at your command.”

“One pod.” Kara corrected, she turned away from the display heading out of Command toward the launch bay. “You will not be accompanying me.”

“General Kara, I must protest.” Lesla-Lar’s quickened steps dogged Kara along the corridors. “If your intent is to engage the enemy the very least you will require is a well-trained squadron as back up. Barring that, if you are seeking out intelligence on this enemy, there are opertives within the ranks capable of …”

“Enough, Commander.” Kara halted in her steps, drawing Lesla-Lar up short. “I value your counsel. But this is not up for discussion.” Lesla-Lar nodded sharply.

“Of course General. I apologize if I over-stepped.”

“Do not apologize.” Kara placed a hand on Lesla-Lar’s shoulder. The young commander gazed at it a moment askance, then turned questioning eyes on Kara. “I trust you to lead in my absence. Should I fail to return …”

“We will mourn you, General.” Lesla-Lar intoned.

“You will find a way to make peace with the humans.” Kara stated. She searched for discomfort or disgust at this proclamation, but Lesla-Lar’s face remained impassive. “It is their long-held belief that they inherit the Earth. In their history of habitation, they have not learned to successfully share it amongst themselves. We must set the bar even higher now with the expectation of our welcome. You will proceed as discussed with Myriad Beta.”

“I understand.” Lesla-Lar spoke, her words a simple response to what sounded an impossible command. Kara felt no inkling of doubt upon hearing those words that Lesla-Lar would carry out what might prove to be Kara’s final request.

“In helping us, in sharing this home, let them become better than they might ever imagine they are capable.” Kara gave Lesla-Lar’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze. “Because they are, quite capable.” She turned, steps again headed toward the launch bay. Lesla-Lar followed discreetly at her side, silent, contemplative.

 

The pre-programmed automatic control features in the pod made it unnecessary for Kara to do much but sit back and watch Earth fade into the distance. When the moon and the monolithic vessel hidden behind it filled her viewscreen, Kara was reminded for a moment of her last voyage through space. As a child she’d visited countless worlds, distant galaxies, with her parents. She’d seen wonders the likes of which she might never encounter again. Drawing closer to her destination, she did not marvel at the oppressive machinery crouched in geostationary orbit around the moon. It was, for lack of any better characterization, menacing.

The pod’s automation was smooth as it piloted to an airlock near to where their intelligence estimated the ship’s command deck would reside. The heads up display indicated a sound seal and Kara disembarked with trepidation speeding her heart. The air was stale and the ship still as the space outside its bulkhead. Kara deemed to float along the dim corridor away from her pod though the gravitational controls were apparently in working order. She didn’t wish for her footsteps to alert her unsuspecting … hosts. From what she could discern, her arrival hadn’t caused sufficient disturbance to sound any alarms. She guided her steps along a maintenance corridor towards a main access routing that would lead her directly to the command center.

Kara stumbled to a sudden halt, startled by the twinkle of lights she quickly recognized appearing in the pathway directly before her. 

“Paige!” Kara just barely modulated her voice. Pulling Paige close, Kara glanced down the corridor. She ducked into a small nook, possibly an access terminal, immediately adjacent but hopefully out of sight to anyone that might happen by in this inopportune moment. Kara ignored the dim lights as the terminal activated in response to their presence. Waiting, she listened attentively for any indication that whatever defensive capabilities were in place might be headed their way. Save the intermittent and underlying sounds of an idle starship, there was little or no indication that they were anything but alone.

“Don’t ask me why I’m here.” Paige whispered, barely making a sound. Kara’s gaze at first fretful soon became resigned. Paige placed a hand against Kara’s chest. She whispered and Kara could feel the energy of Paige’s light warming against her. When Paige drew her hand away, the symbol of the House of El, her family’s coat of arms was emblazoned upon the dark uniform material deeper than stitching in a hue more poignant than any crimson upon which Kara had ever laid eyes. “You told me once what that truly means.” Paige placed a finger against the curving center of the S. “Not wearing the cape doesn’t change that.”

“You’re right.” Kara conceded.

“Of course.” Paige smiled, eyes glowing with untapped energy. “Shall we?”

To Kara, Paige’s footsteps sounded like hammer falls though she knew Paige was walking with careful consideration to the silence over which they tread. On more than one occasion Kara caught Paige regarding their surroundings with awe. To Kara it was an ancient ship the likes of which she’d only seen in history texts. The technology was far outpaced by even the pod that had carried her from Earth. She reasoned that to Paige, this was nonetheless a seminal experience. After all, she was walking on an alien spaceship. Beyond thought that Paige herself was the descendent of the very alien race that had engineered this vessel, it would perhaps be a bit disconcerting to consider. After all, Paige’s only rational concept of an alien vessel was largely informed by the fictional renditions portrayed in film and television, ridiculous at best. Kara all but scoffed at the very thought and struggled to keep Paige focused with the reminder that they weren’t on an amusement park tour.

As they drew nearer the command center, Kara slowed their progress. Increasing her sensory perception significantly, she searched for the sounds of life, a heartbeat or breathing. No matter how she strained, she could detect nothing. This could only mean …

“I don’t think there’s anyone here.” Paige whispered drawing alongside Kara. She nodded toward the command center, prodding Kara pointedly. “Come on.” Unsurprisingly, Paige’s instincts bore out. The caution they’d exercised was unnecessary as they were greeted by dark consoles and empty chairs. By the looks of things, this area had gone unoccupied for quite some time. “See.” Paige turned in a full circle trying to gain a complete picture of the central control area for the ship. It was easily the size of a stadium arena. It was hard for Paige to imagine how it might have appeared when once it had been fully manned. Her eyes tried and failed to count the endless rows of consoles and stations the purpose of which she could only guess. Kara eliminated the guess work by sitting down at the closest.

“This place Kara …” Paige shook her head.

“I know.” Kara murmured with effort not to dismiss the wonder that had captured Paige’s attention. “Stay with me. We have work here.” Kara activated the console, Paige coming to peer over her shoulder.

“Can you read this?” Paige asked, forehead creased in confusion at the stream of characters on the console’s display.

“I don’t have to.” Kara replied, producing her blue data crystal. She placed it on the console, initiating the interface with a brush of her fingers. She watched as the holographic display popped up with an immediate Kryptonese translation.

“Ah, well that’s better.” Paige rolled her eyes. She gestured exaggeratedly at the heads up hovering before them. “What do all the squiggles say?”

“This indicates that life support is running at twenty percent and the engines have been offline for several millennia.” Kara directed several gestures in response to which characters and schematics began to flash in quick succession. “No life signs.” Kara confirmed with a sigh of relief.

“That just doesn’t make sense.” Paige shook her head. “When I’ve gone to the Patisserie, I’ve seen Leo orb out as though being called up here by the Host. To him they’re the Elders, but certainly not just some figment of his twisted imagination.” Paige threw her arms wide turning in the space to regard the looming empty. “He was being summoned here.”

“Who was doing the summoning?” Kara fidgeted with the heads up controller but seemed only further dismayed. “There’s no one on this ship save us, Paige.” A flash of something curious caught her attention and Kara halted the progression of screens to explore more deeply. “Wait.” Paige leaned closer as though trying to catch a glimpse of whatever had placed such a clearly stupefied expression on Kara’s face.

“What?” Kara leaned back, with a confounded gesture.

“This.”

A wizened man appeared before them, dressed in flowing white robes Paige immediately associated with the heavenly garb Leo sometimes war upon a return from a visit to see the Elders. Paige jumped startled but quickly realized, much like the display from Kara’s data crystal, this older gentleman was little more than a projection of light. Well, until he spoke.

“Proceed against the biters and the reprobates, and against the children of fornication: and destroy the children of the Watchers from amongst men: send them one against the other that they may destroy each other in battle: for length of days shall they not have.” His voice seemed to ring, filling the whole of the control center with his command. Paige shuddered, his gaze remained steady, unperturbed, and focused directly upon her. He was nothing more than a shadow, Paige easily sensed and yet she felt her heartbeat quicken even as her breath stilled as she listened to its preprogrammed messianic ranting.

“That’s from the book of Enoch.” Paige informed, stepping forward. She reached hesitantly through the hologram with a questing hand.

“And that,” Kara indicated the figure gone silent and for all appearances solid and real before them. “Is the Elder of the whitelighters, commander of the darklighters, the Host of all Heaven.”

“A program?” Paige grit her teeth, incensed.

“An AI.” Kara corrected. “Intelligent enough to adapt over time and persist in delivering orders to a subordinate army that knows no better of their origin than the people of Earth equally subject to it.” Kara paused thoughtful. “It’s the wizard behind the curtain at the heart of the Emerald City.” Paige regarded Kara, looking suspiciously like she might be on the verge of some amalgam of screaming, crying fit. It was horrendous. Generations of death and oppression, of perpetual terror all because of this, a collection of forgotten code left in place by its conspicuously absent and likely deceased progenitors.

“Well, fuck.” Paige muttered, chest heaving with forcibly deep breaths. She turned wild eyes on Kara. “Can you reprogram it?” Kara’s fingers flew before her heads up and in seconds the image of the Heavenly Host was skipping in place and singing in Judy Garland’s melodic soprano.

“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of oz!” Kara smirked.

“I’ll take that to be a yes.” Paige worried her thumbnail across her lip. She paced to look closely at the apparition, skipping gaily. She turned and paced back to Kara’s side. “Call them. All of them.”

“The whitelighters and darklighters?” Kara asked, fingers already searching for the signal that called out to the servants deployed on the planet’s surface.

“And demons alike.” Paige conferred, nodding at the the hologram. “There’s something I want him to say.”

 

With full control of the Naltorian ship linked to her data crystal, Kara and Paige retreated to the pod and watched Kara’s diligent work come to fruition. The heads up display in the pod gave full view of the command center. Under holographic influence, it morphed into the blinding halls of heaven. A council of robed elders appeared and before them the ranks of heaven and the underworld alike fell in line. There were so many, countless hundreds, thousands, appearing in a cascading shower of orb light to bow at the feet of their masters. Kara nodded, indicating that Paige could proceed when ready.

Paige regarded the sight of those many who’d dealt death and destruction for untold lifetimes on Earth. Would it not be so easy in this moment to reap vengeance? Kara, seemingly sensing Paige’s thought, reached out a hand offered in support, friendship, but most of all it seemed to caution. Revenge was the detestable offspring of hatred that Paige could not abide darkening her heart. She cleared her throat, and spoke knowing that her words were heard by her enemy as unquestionable command. Perhaps that could serve as its own ironic comeuppance.

“And have their sons not slain one another, and have they not seen the destruction of their beloved ones. They have been bound and at the end of the testament which wrought seventy generations in the valleys of the earth, they are consummated in judgement. So be it that we decree the ending of this strife. And for any who continue in enmity against the children of the Watchers, only they shall be led off to the abyss of fire, to the torment and the prison in which they shall be confined forever. And whosoever shall be thus condemned and destroyed will from thenceforth be bound together with them to the end of all generations.”

Paige gestured for Kara to close the transmission, and shrugged at Kara’s decidedly impressed gaze. “Inspired by the Book of Enoch.” She smirked as though it was an easily drawn conclusion. They watched a moment, the feed indicating little in the way of response. There was only silent obeissance. Whitelighters, Darklighters, demons and Elders, all of heaven’s host drawn together in a pious, meditation that any other day the very sight of would terrify Paige. Not today. Today, this sight was a long-awaited glimpse at victory.

“The holographic emitters will run this program indefinitely if we let it.” Kara offered informatively as she began the sequence to disengage from the airlock and initiate the pre-programmed flight path back to Earth. A self-satisfied smile spread across Paige’s features. She sat back in the close quarters of the pod, attention drawn to the undiminished wonder of outer space. 

“Let it.”

 

Noli Me Tangere

 

Day just breaking, Kara and Paige orbed into the kitchen of the Beauchamp home. Even for the early hour, they are greeted by the scent of fresh brewed coffee and something bready, sweet baking distinct and fragrant,.

Paige let go of Kara’s hand, breathed deep and nearly giggled at the feeling of unmitigated freedom. Joanna Beauchamp looked on, halted in her morning preparations. Paige had never felt so giddy about the idea of breakfast.

“You two are up early.” Joanna observed. “Or late.” Kara could not quite muster a response. She watched Paige, had been watching for hours. Hours in which Paige had convinced Kara that the opportunity to take a quick tour of the solar system really couldn’t be ignored. And Paige’s face as they traversed such distances as no human being had ever ventured, Paige’s face had been a revelation. In it a joy that seemed unable to contain, Kara thought there might exist some redemption for the steps she regretted taking though inevitably they’d brought her here. 

Paige turned to Kara, pausing only at the guarded expression she encountered. 

“We have news.” Paige grinned, eyes alight as she spared Joanna a quick glance.

“You can share it over breakfast.” Joanna, if suspicious or concerned, did not let on as she cracked and whipped eggs.

“You have news to share.” Kara corrected. It was as though Paige could feel her drawing away, and though she reached out clasping Kara’s wrist, eyes begging her to wait, to stay; Paige knew. Kara disengaged and seemed torn a moment as to whether she’d just leave or … Paige pulled Kara in, hands cradling Kara’s face gentle and firm all at once. It was a spectacularly unexpected kiss to which Kara could only surrender. When Paige at last drew away, it was to place her hand over the emblem on Kara’s chest. 

“Don’t forget.” She whispered, blinking in hopes of stemming the threat of tears. Kara’s hand covered hers for a beat, warm with promise.

“If you ever need me …” She began but Paige tapped at the pendant hidden under her uniform. When Paige had bestowed it, Kara didn’t comprehend the power it held and now it was covenant. 

“And if you ever need me.” Paige intoned in return. 

The flight home felt longer, Kara mused, not for the distance but perhaps for what she is leaving behind. She’d said her goodbyes and took flight not knowing when she’d see Halliwell or Beauchamp again in this life. The steady progress of dawn nipped hungrily at her heels until she at last sets down in the soft grass before her second childhood home. Kara heaved her shoulders in exhaustion and tread the familiar steps with streaks of light blue, purple and pink coloring the sky at her back.

Coffee, scrambled eggs and pancakes fragrant as the memories elicited, greeted Kara two steps in and a voice from the kitchen.

“Kara, is that you?” Kara let the screen door slam behind her, almost expecting to be chastised when seconds later Eliza appeared, wiping her hands on a dish rag. A warm smile, sympathetic and loving, and potent enough to inspire immediate tears, is what Kara received instead. Eliza’s lovely, motherly face is all it takes, as Kara’s chest clenched alarmingly and sobbing she is surrounded by the comfort of a familiar embrace. “Alex thought you might come home.” Eliza drew back to give Kara a good look, a loving look of appraisal. “She’s asleep upstairs. Why don’t you go wake her. Then you’ll eat and you’ll tell me.” Kara nodded, calming herself with effort and sneaking another quick hug before obediently heading up to the bedroom she shared with Alex for six years.

Peaceful in the repose of sleep, Alex laid flat on her back, eyelids evidenced deep dreaming. Kara found herself at the mercy of every moment she’d ever had the unique pleasure of this image. She watched Alex sleep quite often enough. To do so had always inspired one inexplicable feeling that persisted even now, in spite of any confusion, any anger. Kara toed out of her boots, discarded her uniform and slipped into the bed, careful not to disturb such peaceful slumber.

“Kara.” Alex murmured, she turned her head, still caught in sleep, otherwise unmoving. Kara found with dexterity the warm purchase above Alex’s heartbeat. Hereto, Kara had traversed the darkness in search of Rao’s light. But no place for her there yet, no matter how she yearned. There would be time when that loving eternity could be well-met. Until then. She slid in close, breathed deep against Alex’s neck.


	7. Please Read The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For author's notes and disclaimer, please refer to chapter one.

Not Far Gone

 

“Hey lovebug.” Paige looked up from the intricate hand tutting she was choreographing and directed her attention to the attic doorway. 

“Hey Cordy.” Smiling broadly, Paige stepped out from behind the lectern holding the Halliwell family Book of Shadows and met Cordelia in a hug. “I thought you were still in London? Wills sent an email saying you had some big meeting.” Cordelia’s regarded Paige with the tenting of classically surprised eyebrows.

“Leave it to you to cut right to the chase. What else did Willow mention in that email?” Cordelia directed Paige to have a seat at the oak work table at the far end of the attic, inadvertently resurrecting the image of any number of serious conversations to which Paige had been the direct recipient growing up. She had ever and happily preferred to have a seat and listen to Cordelia’s soft even tones and careful dissection of why it was not okay to magically enchant someone’s entire wardrobe with an itching charm. The alternative would be one of Prue’s epic rants and crazed punishments. Cordelia had always been the voice of reason in those days, saving Paige from, as an example, working and reworking the spell and potion for a gingko biloba extraction one thousand times. Gingko Biloba extractions, used in memory charms, were possibly the smelliest and most detail-dependent spell and potion-work in the entirety of the craft. Paige had spent a month on that punishment and the two months following taking baths in lemon and tomatoes and everything else she could possibly come up with trying to banish the remnants of her toils. But Prue had more than adequately proven her point. Paige would never again attempt to sneak a deadly and ancient artefact out of the forbidden section of the council library for shits and gigs.

“She said you were meeting with a group of witches and wizards with whom the council had a longstanding if somewhat strained relationship.” Paige shrugged, not terribly interested in the day to day politics of how the Council deliberated its super secret business. They were worse than intelligence agencies here in the states. Honestly Paige believed if she, Cordelia and Prue weren’t, well incredibly powerful, they might have been disappeared into the deepest darkest dungeony offerings the Council could boast,well boast if they weren’t so secretive.

“Yes well, your thesis has gained some attention.” Cordelia pursed her lips.

“I haven’t even published it yet.” Paige threw up her hands in exasperation. “How do these people keep getting copies?”

“Trust me, it’s gone viral in the magical community.” Cordelia chuckled. “You’ve reaped the whirlwind, kiddo.” Paige sighed, regaling Cordelia with an incredibly put upon expression.

“I’m going to assume I should expect to be annoyed, just tell me how annoyed.”

“So, you’re going to have to take a meeting.” Cordelia began. Paige deduced from the soft, sympathetic gaze Cordelia was currently laying down that this was going to be right up there with the very heart-felt lecture Paige had received when Brecken Lehman had revealed to the entire junior class at the post Winter Carnival dance the presence of Paige’s bust-enhancing garment. Paige’s retaliation had been swift and far more mortifying for Brecken Lehman than a bunch of their classmates gossiping about a water bra. The immediate consequence had been Prue’s very realistic threat of military school. Cordelia had stepped in and first consoled Paige with the promise that some young women develop late and all the kids who had chosen to laugh had their own pubescent secrets under wraps. Laughing at Paige’s so call shortcomings was far more telling of their inadequacies than anything for which Paige might be inclined to feel ashamed. In conclusion, Cordelia had carefully explained why making another young woman’s dress and underthings disintegrate to nothing in front of an auditorium full of high school students was a poor choice. Cordelia’s expression now was identical to the one she’d sported throughout Brecken-gate.

“A meeting?” Paige repeated with open suspicion.

“Yep, you’ll just bebop over to London and meet with one of the representatives Wills mentioned.”

“Bebop?” Cordelia’s eyes narrowed as she realized her efforts had been spotted out by the notes of disdain in Paige’s monotone.

“Stop repeating things.”

“Stop trying to minimize.” Paige retorted, eyes widening in accusation. “I deeply love and trust you Cordy like one of my deeply lovable and trustworthy sisters.” Paige regarded Cordelia with a very potent if not outright insulting up and down. “But I know you and all of this, is you working me.”

“I’m not …” Paige’s eyes, impossibly, widened further. Cordelia sighed, caving. “Okay look. These witches and wizards, they are not exactly easy to get along with if you don’t carry what they consider a pedigree.”

“Then what the fuck …”

“Language!” Cordelia chided. She tilted her head, lips pursed in a fair approximation of Prue’s most effective glare of condemnation. Paige held up her hands in acquiescence.

“Sorry.” Paige’s mouth worked as though clearing the last chewy bits of curse from her palate. With a deliberately calm smile, she continued. “Why do they want to see me?”

“Like I said, your thesis has gone viral.” Cordelia clarified with very little clarity in Paige’s dubious estimation. “They’re concerned and certainly curious. You’re a brilliant witch and in their minds, they should have been aware of anyone demonstrating your degree of talent before now.”

“What about my so-called pedigree?” Paige smirked.

“That’s part of their concern.” Cordelia replied shrugging. “They want the opportunity to investigate how you may have slipped their notice under the premise you might bear some relation to one of their ancient …”

“This bullshit!” Paige exclaimed standing up, incensed.

“Paige.” Cordelia warned.

“No Cordy, tell those assholes the fact is that I actually am the bastard child of a dead witch and I don’t have time or patience to be reminded of it.” Paige folded her arms fuming, even as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“Baby girl.” Cordelia stood, sliding her hands along Paige’s tensed arms and gazed meaningfully into watery brown eyes.

“Why is it I constantly have to prove myself to every witch and wizard I come across that my craft is capable just because I don’t bear a magical surname?” Paige sniffed, and stared down at her arms willing her tears not to fall as some involuntary proof that she cared about something so impossibly stupid when obviously she didn’t. Obviously. “They’re going to accuse me of lying and say that I didn’t write my thesis, aren’t they?”

“Actually, no.” Cordelia dipped her head, catching Paige’s gaze. “They absolutely believe you wrote it. They certainly confirmed it beyond the shadow of a doubt before requesting this meeting.” Paige swallowed, looking at Cordelia with creeping interest.

“Then what exactly do they want?”

“I should really leave that to them.” Cordelia tried for a tentative smile. “Go to the meeting. You may be pleasantly surprised.”

“By a bunch of elitist dicks dissecting the legitimacy of my birthright?” Paige shook her head. “Fucking, nope.”

“You curse like that in front of Prue?” Cordelia gave Paige’s arms a squeeze and released to revert to a proper hands on hips scolding. “I have a mind to …”

“I am way too grown.” Paige interrupted dismissively.

“You’re never too grown.” Cordelia pointed conveying ominous and loving with absolute aplomb. She tapped Paige lightly on her nose. “Expect some form of invitation in the mail. Ignore it if you must; or just go and see what they have to say. What’s the harm in it?” Paige shrugged, grumbling incoherently under her breath.

“Can I get back to work?” Paige looked away, a full pout now evident on her lips. Cordelia instantly transported back to Paige’s terrible teens couldn’t help but smile. “Please?” Paige added with exaggerated deference.

“By all means, please yourself.” Cordelia cupped Paige’s cheek lovingly before heading toward the attic door. “Think about what I said, huh?” Paige watched Cordelia’s departure and silence, then called, her voice carrying out the attic door to the stairs.

“Love you!”

“Love you too, kiddo.” Drifted softly back. Paige chewed thoughtfully at her lip, considering, then wandered back to the Book and her work with renewed concentration.

 

"You publish this and it’s not going to fade into the obscurity of some academic journal of Physics. It’ll explode on the New York Times nonfiction bestseller list announcing to Muggles with conviction that magic exists in their sublimely mundane world.”

“Um …” Paige side-eyed, halted mid-text. Powdered sugar rained lightly from the donut balancing precariously from her lips while she fumbled trying to catch her phone before it slipped from numb fingertips. She pulled the donut from her mouth, chewed slowly, swallowed even slower. “Who …” Paige closed her eyes and reconsidered her inquiry. “What is a muggle?” The girl was all flex and zero chill in Paige’s eyes, even with that pinched look on her flawlessness. A halo of pre-blowout curl down to her shoulders and cocoa skin that shone in the sunlight like burnished copper, Paige watched as several passersby slowed pedestrian traffic to indiscreetly clock skinny jeans and button-down cardigan. Paige frowned, that cardigan though. 

“Those.” The woman gestured at the men and women nearly stopping to stare. “Are muggles.”

“Oh.” Paige made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat, then focused again on her text. On the corner of Third and Market outside of Peets coffee, she was waiting to meet Phoebe for lunch and texting Prue at length about the final tuition check of her final semester of grad school. There were probably tears obscuring the screen of Prue’s phone as she tried valiantly to type a response.

“You were sent an invitation.” How was it that British accents could sound so utterly disapproving Paige wondered as she idly thumbed through an email from a classmate about a spring mixer and chewed.

“Was I?” Paige mumbled, disinterest pouring off her in waves.

“You were!” Paige felt amusement slip into her posture and couldn’t deny a bit of enjoyment at this petty bureaucrat's expense.

“Yep, I was.” Paige confirmed, sighing as if bored. She slid her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. Tilting her head, she awarded the woman an expectant gaze that clearly said, And?

“You didn’t respond.” The woman seemed bewildered at the very idea. Clearly someone never hears the word no, Paige thought tickled at the intermittent waves of anger and confusion gracing lovely features. When Paige’s expression failed to change, the woman ground her teeth nodding in sudden comprehension. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those rogues.” She waved her hands in a mocking caricature of what could only have been, Oh I’m so impressed.

“The fuck that mean?” Paige sneered, full attention securely obtained. The woman smirked, tilting her head at the tables effective turn.

“Stunning linguistic capability. Perhaps we dodged, as you gun-obsessed Americans like to say, the proverbial bullet here.” 

“I’m going to invite you to fuck off now.” Paige turned her back to the woman, scanning the sidewalks near and far for Phoebe.

“Well, at least you excel at making my point.”

“Yeah well at least you …”

“Paige, who are you talking to sweetheart?” Paige spun, finding Phoebe standing effectively in the now absent woman’s stead. “You okay? Working too hard?” Phoebe regarded her baby sister with concerned amusement. “Seriously kid, who are you talking to out here on the corner by yourself, drawing a whole lot of attention?”

“You didn’t see …?” Paige drew circles with her splayed hands pointing at the near vicinity of their currently occupied portion of sidewalk.

“I saw you cursing the air out while people walked widely around you.” Phoebe shook her head, linking Paige’s elbow and pulling gently. “Let’s get you some lunch, huh? I see you already had a donut appetizer.” Phoebe wiped absently at the powdered sugar on Paige’s chin while her sister glanced around one last time allowing herself to be led away. 

“I was hungry and you were late.” She mumbled, feeling decidedly crazy.

Phoebe insisted on dropping Paige off at home, not feeling completely confident that Paige wouldn’t become one of those BART passengers who had entire conversations shouting at invisible people while everyone else on the train diligently averted their eyes.

“Take a nap or something.” She’d firmly suggested before pulling out of the driveway headed on her way back to work. The last thing Paige had planned for her afternoon was a nap. She took the stairs up to her bedroom two at a time, bolting through the door like she was being chased. Grabbing her waste paper basket from the floor, she pawed through a week’s worth of refuse before she encountered the root of her search.

It was a simple letter, really, nothing special about it. Addressed to Paige Matthews at the approval of the British Ministry of Magic, Department of Muggle-Related Wizarding Affairs. The signatory at the conclusion of several long-winded paragraphs was one Hermione Granger, Barrister and co-chairman of the governing board of the Muggle-Born Department of Social Services.

“Hermione Granger.” Paige murmured aloud.

“Yes.” An attentive voice, piped from behind her. Paige felt her bladder give a worrisome quiver as the letter dropped from her hands and she spun at the sound. There she was, smirking in the doorway of Paige’s bedroom.

“I don’t even care what … why …” Paige huffed, eyes rolling to the ceiling as she tried to formulate a thought through the haze of anger and confusion and heart palpitations at the, oh my goddess, I’m not alone in the house.

“No I’m not actually here.” Hermione shrugged. “But it was pretty humorous watching you manically shout in public at an apparition only you can see. That probably covers most of why.” Paige sat, feeling somewhat faint.

“I already know what you want and I’m not interested.” Paige shook her head solemnly.

“Do you know?” Hermione slipped her hands in her back pockets making a rough attempt at laid back that could never, ever work with her posture and laser intensity focus. “I mean, I dare not truly imagine that you could possibly know and remain uninterested.”

“I don’t want to be a part of …” Paige reached down and plucked the letter from the floor. She gestured at it angrily. “Whatever this is, because I know how you people work.”

“And how is that?” Hermione seemed genuinely interested in Paige’s response in spite of her doubt of Paige’s certainty.

“You call people who aren’t born to magic, muggles.” Paige ground out with disgust coloring her features. “You stratify your society based on the relevance of a name bestowed at birth rather than on any type of merit. You fabricate and codify individual worth because you actually believe that some have been born superiorly worthy.”

“That is impressive how abysmally wrong you are.” Hermione arched a brow, but seeing Paige’s expression she relaxed her smirk and tried for something a bit more approachable. “Look I’m not saying that wizarding society is perfect. You’re right there are those who call themselves blood purists. They behave in the very manner you describe. And there are more of them,” Hermione stepped forward, pulling back the right sleeve of her cardigan and revealing a scar on her wrist to Paige’s eyes. “Than there are of us.” Paige read the word carved into Hermione’s flesh and knew it immediately to be something ugly and debased and horrific both in meaning and in its presence scarred with obvious permanence. She swallowed, feeling sympathetic tears prick and took a moment to steady herself before looking up into Hermione’s eyes.

“I’m trying to change all of that Paige.” Hermione pushed her sleeve back into place and clasped her hands in an inadvertent demonstration of nervousness. “I know your family, like mine, isn’t part of wizarding society. It will be a culture shock if you accept what I’m offering and a challenge if you’re willing to try your hand at what I’m asking.”

“What are you asking?” Paige’s voice was soft, gone was the suspicion and the contempt. Everything in her wanted to hear what Hermione Granger had worked so hard to request.

“I told you the wizarding world is desperate for change.” Hermione shrugged in the most unassuming way. That alone nearly had Paige convinced. “Help me change it.”

 

“Tell us again. You were talking to yourself and …”

“I wasn’t talking to myself.” Paige huffed impatiently, she stepped around her sisters in the tight confines of her bedroom. She’d stuffed the most obvious essentials into her leather duffle, toiletries and underclothes. She was scrambling looking for her phone charger and her tablet and those waterproof black ankle boots that looked amazing with the jeans she was wearing.

“Who were you talking to nugget?” Prue asked as she watched Paige scramble, digging under the bed for first one then two mismatched boots with notable frustration. 

“No she was definitely not talking to anyone. I was there.” Phoebe rolled her eyes as though to emphasize how crazy Paige had looked flailing and shouting on the corner hours before.

“I need both of you to stop using that tone like you’re preparing to hide every sharp object in the house.” Paige dug the letter out of her back pocket and unfolded it. Prue regarded it warily then accepted it, eyes roaming quickly over the text.

“This is …” Prue waved her hand as though trying to grasp at a wispy memory. “Those witches and wizards in Great Britain, not to be trifled with Paige. They take serious issue with anyone studying the craft who they independently have decided isn’t born to it. We had far too many scuffles with those fascists when I was working with the council.” She handed the letter back to Paige. “Why are they contacting you?”

“Somehow they got a hold of my thesis.” Paige quirked a proud smile. “This woman on the board of governance for a Social Services department offered me a job.”

“Woah there.” Phoebe held up her hands as if channeling Prue’s next line of questioning. “What about your internship?”

“And your degree?” Prue added, pointedly.

“There’s some training before I can start.” Paige assured. “The overlap is perfect. I’ll be able to finish my degree, complete the hours on my internship. I’ll get me LCSW, don’t worry.”

“What about working towards a permanent position at DCFS? I thought that’s what you wanted.” Prue seemed far more concerned than disappointed, which was certainly a relief. Footing the bill for six years of college education had not been easy, especially after she’d left her six figure auction house salary behind.

“I’ll be making use of my license. It’s a social work adjacent position with magical implications.” Paige grinned, teeming with excitement. “I get to do everything I’m good at while doing everything I’ve dreamed.”

“That does sound almost perfect.” Phoebe mused, clearly on the fence.

“I get that it sounds perfect.” Prue contended grudgingly. “It’s just, we don’t know these people Paige. We don’t know how they operate. You’ll be alone out there. Not even the council is privy to the profoundly intricate inner workings of their very closed-off society.” Prue shook her head visibly disturbed at the thought of Paige infiltrating this group of wizards and witches that had every appearance from the outside of a very influential cult. They had more pockets around the world than Scientology. “Their branch of magic split off almost as soon as our ancient ancestors arrived on this planet. Do you know they are so secretive that they were able to confound even the Host into believing they didn’t exist?”

“That could be worrisome.” Phoebe remarked regarding Paige with mounting concern.

“And they are warded heavily. We’ll have no way to come to you if you need us.” Prue shook her head, becoming more agitated by the thought of Paige out there, somewhere, hidden from their sight and far beyond their reach.

“But what if I don’t need you.” Paige tipped her head, and sat down next to Prue. She took her sister’s hand with a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry so much. If I were training for a job at DCFS you wouldn’t be trying to formulate ways to extradite me from Social Services.”

“That is hardly an adequate comparison.” Prue sighed, glancing at Paige and knowing there was no way to deny her little sister this chance. “Just promise us you’ll be in touch.”

“Not be careful?” Phoebe chimed incredulous. She joined them seated on the bed, sandwiching Paige between Prue and herself. Paige held out her hand which Phoebe gripped with ferocity. “Yes call whenever you can, but be careful. Just because we don’t have the Host on our tail anymore doesn’t mean you let your guard down, Kid.”

“I know.” Paige smiled, feeling herself grow teary eyed as she glanced from Phoebe to Prue and back again. “It’s not forever guys. And I’ll still come home Sundays, I promise.”

“You better.”

 

So, by the way

“Um, Alex.” Kara regarded her sister with what could only be classified as embarrassment.

“Hey, what’s up?” Alex pushed away from the microscope bench. Feet perched on a rung of her wheeled stool, she glided, drifting to an easy stop in the middle of the lab. These days Kara rarely came to the DEO unannounced. Admittedly the new unmistakably military uniform, even with Supergirl’s crest prominently displayed on the front, tended to make Alex’s colleagues nervous. There had been anxious talk as to why sightings of Kara’s subordinates had significantly decreased since Astra and Non’s untimely deaths. At home, Kara remained reticent. She spoke little of her time in East End and what came of it. In fact, Alex noted as she regarded her sister with open curiosity, Kara, who had once aspired to Disney Princess upbeat, had become … well, broody.

“So, you remember when we were kids and Eliza sat us down and gave us…” Kara rolled her eyes, already feeling the heat rising along her neck to her cheeks. “The talk.”

“You mean …” Alex made finger quotes and repeated solemnly, “The Talk?” Kara swallowed nodding uncomfortably. “Yeah, of course I remember. I’ve never seen anyone so nervous and uncomfortable and I’ve beat confessions out of criminals.” Kara’s eyes widened and Alex shook her head minutely indicating she said so only in jest. Alex snickered.

“Eliza was nervous?” Perhaps Kara could take some comfort in that.

“Uh no, not at all. I’m talking about you.” Alex outright laughed. “Don’t you remember? You practically wet yourself, ran from the room when she was finished bright red like you are now. What the hell, Kara?”

“I …” Kara rolled her eyes, gazing up at the ceiling and mumbled. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Yes, I gathered from your upcoming birthday party which I’ve planned to your specifications.” Alex shook her head, glancing back at the microscope as if intending to return to work.

“Do you even bother to consult the AI about anything beyond the scope of the so-called alien menace you spend all day attempting to eradicate?” Kara sniped, feeling frustration seeping into her tone. Lately, she’d observed her own unexpected demonstrations of ire with growing concern. She struggled to tamp down her rising temper.

“Like what?” Alex raised an eyebrow at the attitude and shrugged. “Seriously Kara, try and focus in on your point, whatever it may be.”

“My people are long-lived Alex, even on Krypton.” Kara stared pointedly, then sighing continued spelling her meaning carefully. “You developed …” Kara cleared her throat uncomfortably, “When you were fourteen because that’s the norm for human females.”

“Yes, I remember it clearly.”Alex again exaggeratedly fashioned quotation marks with her fingers. “Mom was giving me The Talk with good reason, I’d just sprouted boobs. You’d probably remember that if you’d actually been listening and not rocking back and forth in the corner of the couch.”

“That’s not fair. It was traumatizing hearing about what you were suddenly doing …” Kara gestured at Alex’s crotch inspiring Alex to snort in amusement. Apparently some things refused to change. “Eliza’s talk was about as applicable to Kryptonian anatomy and physiology as it would be to a seminar on sub-orbital mechanics.”

“On … what?” Alex blinked, silence growing as she regarded her sister a moment as the pieces began to fall into place. Alex straightened as comprehension dawned. “Wait, what?” Kara fidgeted, looking anywhere but at Alex. She gestured behind her, out of the lab and toward the projection room Alex had originally set-up as a connection to Kara’s past.

“You should, um …” Kara cleared her throat. “You should go talk to my Mom.” Kara nodded, rapidly, didn’t wait for a response, simply turned and fled.

“Okay.” Alex murmured to her now empty lab. Sliding her hands out of and disposing of the rubber gloves she’d been wearing, it seemed that logging samples and listening to podcasts was no longer the order of the day. Busy work in the confines of her private lab was intended to be a welcome respite from all the recent crazy. Now here she was treading toward what would surely be another clusterfuck. Alex took a calming breath trying to will away the oppressive pall she sensed where before her day had been almost mundane. 

 

Alex desperately tried to exorcise the shell-shocked look from her face as she drove steadily toward Kara’s apartment. She’d stopped for pot stickers and ice cream, and a bottle of Bulleit whiskey just for her since Kara couldn’t be bothered with drinking. She’d gone over about ten times what she intended to say and still hadn’t found a comfortable rhythm. The very thought of the looming conversation made Alex want to pull over, park and order an Uber so she could pre-game what was about to happen. 

She’d left what was undoubtedly an alarming voicemail for her mother. Unfortunately, Dr. Eliza Danvers was on a plane on her way to an international conference on Neurobiology. The perfection of that poor timing made Alex want to weep. As the last blocks to Kara’s apartment building swiftly dwindling, Alex found herself parking her Wrangler before she was altogether ready. Alex stared blankly at the steering wheel. 

“I don’t wanna.” She muttered shaking her head. This was definitely an Eliza Danvers, Mom of the year duty. It did not fall under the seemingly endless list of responsibilities Alex had been handed as big sister. “W.T.A.Fing F.” She grabbed the bag of take-out and the ice cream, slid the paper wrapped bottle of whiskey under her arm and regrettably abandoned the refuge of her car. She counted each step from the sidewalk, through the lobby, up the stairs, because why hurry this process with an unnecessary ride in the elevator. She paused for what had to be a solid five minutes in the hallway outside Kara’s apartment.

“Okay.” Deep breath in, she unlocked the apartment door, and took her last step, plastering what she sincerely hoped was an easy going smile on her face. “Hey Kara, I got pot stickers and ice cream!” She called, letting the door swing closed behind her. She cleared her throat noting how forced she’d made easy going sound. Kara appeared from the bedroom dressed in an exceedingly baggy pair of sweats and a hoodie that would easily double as a sleeping bag. Alex coughed, grinning at the ensemble which dwarfed her sister’s frame. 

“Are you and the other Kryptonians starting a dance crew? You know ABDC was cancelled, right?” Alex asked, to which Kara’s gaze narrowed far from amused. Alex sobered, placing the takeout bag on the counter for Kara to rummage and prepared herself a rocks glass for her whiskey. She watched as the semi-forlorn look on Kara’s face transformed to momentary joy as the first pot-sticker found it’s way into her mouth.

“So neither of our Mom’s can be here. But …” Alex poured a generous helping of the honey brown liquid over ice, listening to it burble like a lovely lullaby. She tipped it back, swallowed in a gulp and refilled. “There are things that we should definitely ...” She threw back the second glass and refilled, praying for the buzz to kick in a bit more expeditiously. Kara seemed to be studiously avoiding even glancing in Alex’s direction as she chewed and pouted by turn.

“Alex, I really don’t …” Kara mumbled.

“Yeah, Kara.” Alex swallowed a third helping of whiskey, drawing herself up with finality. “We’re going to have to talk about this. I spoke with the Allura AI and I’m pretty clear on the details so … you know if you have questions.” Kara’s head whipped up and she glared at Alex scandalized. “Hey … hey!” Alex almost expected to be pierced by Kara’s heat vision given the level of animosity suddenly in her sister’s expression. Not cool, Alex thought staring back with her own expression loving but firm. “Kara, this is necessary.” Alex laid out simply, inarguably. It had to happen. It was going to happen. So, the two of them were just going to have to deal. “I readily admit that my mom and I both dropped the ball here and we need to rectify that. Okay?” Alex hummed, using her best Eliza Danver’s voice. This wasn’t coaxing Kara to tell what happened on the playground after school for every day she came home in tears. This required a great deal more consideration and finesse, a sobering realization that had Alex reaching again for the swiftly dwindling bottle of whiskey. As an afterthought, she snagged a spoon out of the utensil drawer and handed it to Kara. 

“Why don’t you dig into that ice cream and we can chat?” Kara’s eyes looked suspiciously watery as she hunched pushing pot stickers and ice cream alike out of her reach. Showing sudden disinterest in being placated with treats, she turned away from Alex, sniffling. “Aw, babe, don’t cry.” Alex sighed feeling absolutely horrendous at her inability to demonstrate thus far the absolute minimum support Kara so desperately needed. She walked around the counter and wrapped her arms around Kara’s shoulders. Sometimes Alex wished Kara still fit slender in the circle of her arms. Kara so easily did so when she was little, new to the planet. Back then, Alex could pull Kara down onto her lap and smother her with cuddles chasing away the ever-looming sadness. Now Kara was tall and lean and broad-shouldered and Alex had to stretch sometimes to reach for hugs and kisses. Alex rested her cheek against Kara’s now damp one and whispered. “Come sit with me, okay? Come on.” Kara nodded, and let Alex lead her over to the sofa by hand. Once there Kara readily tucked herself under Alex’s arm, rubbing at the tears on her cheeks.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” She mumbled, eyes locked on her fingers entwined with Alex’s.

“I know it’s not the easiest subject. But,” Alex sighed, holding Kara tight against her side. “Haven’t I always said you and I, we can talk about anything, right?” Kara nodded. “And this is important, so we can talk about this.” Kara nodded again though with less confidence. “So let’s start with, do you have any questions.” Kara shook her head emphatically, but Alex would not let it go at that. She couldn’t allow her sister to be ill-informed or unprepared. Kara certainly hadn’t made the choice to lose her mom and be sent to grow up on an alien planet. But the Danvers had been given a choice to take Kara into their home, to love her, protect her, guide her and challenge her to be her very best and most authentic self. Alex couldn’t fall short knowing what she’d chosen. 

“So, when a young woman comes of age on Krypton in her twenty-fifth year, she experiences changes to her body that make it possible for her to bond and mate with a partner of her choosing.”

“But what if …”Kara murmured, uncertain.

“What if what, Kara?” Alex asked.

“What if there isn’t anyone?” Kara asked a forlorn timbre shaking her voice with dissonance.

“There will be Kara. I promise.” Alex placed a light kiss on Kara’s temple feeling Kara’s breath hitch against her. “I know this is difficult but it’s nothing to be sad about. It’s a happy time in your life. It’s meant to be celebrated. If your mom was here and …” Alex hesitated, the subject still so tender between them. “If Astra was still with us, you’d be welcomed into your adulthood with the proper ceremonies befitting your position as a daughter of the House of El.” Alex swallowed back her own tears. “I wish it was different and that we could uphold those traditions as they once were on Krypton. What we can do is celebrate the best we know how with friends and family on your birthday. And in the meanwhile.” Alex rubbed Kara’s shoulder and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “We can talk about what it means that you’re now of an age physically that you can be with someone not just for pleasure but for the purpose of procreation.” Alex felt a sudden surge of relief having gotten through the introduction without any uncomfortable pauses or desperately poor choices in wording. 

“But why do I have to make a choice? Why can’t it just happen?” Kara pulled away so she could look imploringly into Alex’s eyes. “You know, like with humans?”

“Because you’re special,baby. Kryptonians are different biologically and that’s just the way it is,” Alex cupped Kara’s cheeks, brushing away tears with the pads of her thumbs. “You bear a blessing directly from Rao gifted to the matriarchs of each house.” Alex smiled gently, reminding Kara of this truly important responsibility that had passed down through so many generations of Kryptonian women. “You’re the last of your line and a matriarch of the House of El. That makes you unique even among your kind. Don’t wish that away.” Kara nodded, then a fresh blush blooming on her cheeks she confessed.

“This morning when I woke up …” She looked away swallowing. “My …” Kara gestured uncomfortably at herself. “Everything hurt.”

“Okay.” Alex nodded, suddenly understanding the reason for Kara’s impromptu visit to the DEO. “Every four to six months you’ll probably have some soreness, as your body changes. It’s accommodating these new physical capabilities that are part of you being a fully developed adult.” Alex placed a hand on Kara’s knee, ducking her head to catch her sister’s eye. “Can you let me see so I can make sure everything looks as it should?” Panic flashed across Kara’s face and she shook her head vehement.

“No, Alex …”

“You’re my little sister and I’m a scientist.” Alex winked to which Kara rolled her eyes. Alex reassured, then offered. “We can wait for my mom to return from her conference … I really rather we didn’t. I just want to be one hundred percent sure what you’re feeling is just growing pains and nothing we wouldn’t expect to accompany these changes.” Kara whined, shifting away and crossing her arms. She winced as she brushed against her sensitive chest. “Kara Zor-El, if you’re in pain. I need to see what’s going on.” Alex, instantly firm leveled so much no nonsense at Kara, it was impossible to argue. 

Kara hadn’t seen a look like that since trying to duck her very first bath in spite of Eliza’s insistence. Her argument had become equally moot with equivalent celerity at that impasse. Kara stood, visibly pouting though her efforts were summarily dismissed by Alex’s stern demeanor. She loosened the drawstring on the sweats, and given their size, they dropped unceremoniously to the floor revealing Kara’s bare legs. Kara carefully, telegraphing the pain the movement caused her, slipped out of the over-sized hoodie, discarding it too on the floor. Alex observed that Kara had foregone underclothes realizing that the closeness of the fabric had probably been causing quite a bit of discomfort. She couldn’t imagine how Kara had felt in that skin-tight uniform of hers.

Poor Kara’s breasts stood out in bright crimson relief, clearly swollen. What’s more, Kara’s pubic area, under a well-manicured patch of downy hair fared no better. Her clitoris had swollen, nearly extending three inches though not fully engorged. It dipped, pointing downward toward the floor. Alex stood, and Kara crossed her arms over her stomach in clear embarrassment. Placing her hands on Kara’s arms in a calming gesture, Alex looked pointedly into her sister’s eyes.

“Hey, I know you’re embarrassed but you really have no reason to be.” Kara attempted a nod, but her chest heaved with the effort to control her breathing. Alex could see tears forming in the corners of Kara’s eyes and it broke her heart. “Shhh, it’s okay.” Alex comforted. She waited a moment for Kara’s breath to ease back into a normal, resting pattern. When it had, Alex gently informed Kara, “I’m going to touch your breasts to make sure the swelling isn’t from any unwanted growths or nodules.” Kara nodded and held herself completely still, allowing Alex to proceed.

Alex reached out gently to palpate the tissue of Kara’s breasts looking for any sign of malformation. Kara hissed, involuntarily. “You okay?” Alex looked up waiting patiently. “Take a deep breath. In, out. Nice and slow.” Kara did as instructed then nodded that Alex could continue. Finding that Kara’s breasts seemed fine, if a little swollen, she squatted to get a closer look at Kara’s genitalia. According to the Allura AI, Kara, now twenty-five would experience cycles of secondary sexual development every four to six months. Much in the same way human women ovulated and menstruated, Kara’s body would prepare her for the possibility to carry a child or alternatively to sire one. This meant that depending on the cocktail of hormones present in Kara’s bloodstream and largely based on Kara’s somatic reaction to the pheromones of a sexual partner, Kara’s clit might grow in length making it possible for her to penetrate and impregnate. Absent the presence of those hormones necessary to stimulate such growth, Kara’s clitoris would remain diminutive and her womb would prepare itself for impregnation.

Alex had listened closely to Allura’s description of the specific details of these processes. From a purely anatomical and physiological standpoint it had proved a fascinating lecture. Alex had learned untold information about the countless special differences present between Kryptonians and Humans. Kryptonians apparently had three genders, male, female, and intersexed of which Kara was a member of the third. Kara’s statement that her people were long-lived had indeed alluded to the fact that over the course of Kara’s life, she would go through several cycles of development of which the twenty-five year period Kara had just completed was the first.

In Kara’s first fertility cycles, her body would be highly influenced by the pheromones of males and females around her, even if they weren’t actually sexual partners. As a result, there would be a bit of a random accounting of which set of secondary sexual characteristics might develop in any given six month cycle. Alex and Kara practically cohabitated with Alex sleeping over more nights a week than she slept in her own apartment. Alex could only surmise that Kara’s current cycle was the likely result of Alex’s own pheromonal influence. Kara’s torso flushed as Alex drew close to examine further. 

“Kara, I’m going to touch your genitals and make sure the swelling down here also is nothing for us to worry about. Okay?” Alex waited until Kara nodded then gently ran her thumbs along Kara’s labia, checking for any abnormality in structure. For Alex, an exam was just that, and she went about it with the same scientific detachment she would employ with any patient. But as she felt the pads of her thumbs grow increasingly slick, she recognized in shock that Kara was very aroused. Alex paused. Swallowing she watched as Kara’s clitoris bobbed, jumping as though in time to a very steady and accelerated heartbeat. Within seconds of Alex taking note of how wet Kara had become, Kara’s clitoris was standing at full attention, taking on another two inches as it pointed decidedly more outward than down. 

Alex side-eyed and pursed her lips, her lauded scientific detachment suddenly and conspicuously absent. “Oh, uh.” Kara’s clit jumped in response to the exhalation against the tip as Alex spoke. Kara drew in a quick breath, her hands dropping to cover it as best she could manage. Alex looked up, seeing Kara’s eyes pinched shut in the frame of her flaming red features. “Well, that’s actually a pretty healthy response.” She chuckled. Kara’s eyes flew open to look down at Alex in dismay. 

“You’re laughing!” She moaned, hands cupped over her crotch. She started to turn away, trying to figure out how to slip back into her clothes without moving either hand. Alex caught her wrists, gently deterring the motion.

“I’m not laughing at you or your thankfully very healthy clitoris.” Alex smiled, releasing a breath as she looked up at Kara. “I’m just immensely relieved that everything is working as it should.” Adequately reassured, Kara nodded, but bit her lip. “What is it?” Alex asked, holding gently to Kara’s wrists. “Tell me.”

“What do I do, about this?” Kara indicated with a nod of her head her hands cupped over but not entirely obscuring her completely engorged clit.

“Well …” Alex hesitated. She was tempted to ask if Kara thought Jimmy Olsen might be open to bottoming for her. Winn certainly might but Kara wasn’t going for that. Poor kid had his seatbelt securely fastened in the friend zone. A second later the thought of suggesting her little sister run out and lose her virginity in some ill-considered tryst days after her physical coming of age made her stomach twist in discomfort. “We should probably talk a lot about that. About how you can be safe and deciding who you feel comfortable with, like James for example.”

“I don’t want to …” Kara’s eyes went comically wide. “I mean I know I said I liked James, but I could never do this with him.” Alex reached down to the pile of clothes on the floor and handed Kara the hoodie. Kara held it in front of her chest, the length of the ridiculously oversized garment practically reaching her knees.

“Well baby, at some point, you may change your mind and …” Alex broached but Kara remained firm, suddenly seeming to embody the confidence of her Supergirl persona, even nude and somewhat indisposed.

“No, not with him.” Kara’s mouth formed a staunch line. She glanced away, unwilling to meet Alex’s gaze after so insistent a proclamation. “It doesn’t feel …” Kara shook her head trying to explain. “Now that I’ve changed, he doesn’t feel like the right one, you know?”

“I know.” Alex smiled. She stood stretching and sat back on the couch, gesturing for Kara to feel free to get dressed. Kara hesitated, body slightly turned away from the sofa where Alex sat.

“What if I knew who made me feel like this?” Kara asked, refusing to turn and address Alex directly, “What would I do then?”

“Oh dear god Kara, please don’t say Cat Grant.” Alex made a face bordering on disgust. That woman was abhorrent. The very idea made Alex’s trigger finger itchy. On more than one occasion CatCo media had barely retained a living eponymous leader on account of the fact the woman had a young son and Alex couldn’t stomach the thought of rendering some kid motherless. 

“NO!” Kara exclaimed turning to face Alex in consternation. The hem of the hoodie flipped up to rest on Kara’s clit. Alex struggled not to be distracted by the weaving of Kara’s newly grown member as a result of the movement. Kara modestly readjusted the hoodie, face and ears burning a deep shade of embarrassment.

“Well I know it’s not Winn.” Alex snickered, much to Kara’s chagrin. Alex looked at Kara askance and ventured with negligible belief in her own suggestion. “Lucy Lane?” Kara made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, silence stretching as she seemingly considered.

“Well, no. But …”

“But?” Alex repeated a grin widening across her features. “You will obliterate James Olsen’s brain if you go for his ex five seconds after she dumped him.”

“I know, right.” Kara dropped onto the sofa next to Alex, finding some semblance of comfort in their shared amusement. She held her arms crossed over the hoodie though she had yet to slip back into it.

“What’s the new assistant’s name?” Alex asked.

“Siobhan and Rao’s sake Alex, give me some credit.” Kara shook herself as if to say ick at Cat Grant’s eager little sycophant.

“Well, that more or less eliminates your pool of candidates unless …” Alex’s mouth dropped wide and Kara suddenly appeared quite nervous again. “Vazquez. Oh babe, she’s a little advanced for you, I think. Trust me on this.” Alex smirked, allowing, “Not to say she wouldn’t go for it. You’re gorgeous and Vazquez has a thing for … well, strong. But uh, maybe work your way up to ....”

“It’s not Vazquez, Alex.” Kara sniffed, not particularly eager to hear just how familiar Alex was with Vasquez’s predilections. 

“Well then who?” Alex appeared utterly confused. “The waitress who brings you your sticky buns in the morning at Noonan’s? She’s cute.” Kara rolled her eyes, letting her head fall against the back of the sofa.

“Are you also going to suggest the guard at the CatCo offices security desk and my neighbor down the hall in 4C who jogs to that awful playlist of local cover bands of 90s grunge artists?” Kara gave an exasperated groan letting her hands drop into her lap then giving a yelp of shock at the unintentioned contact against her clit. Her eyes teared for a second and she glanced at Alex like a frightened puppy. Alex suppressed a grin of amusement at the priceless expression.

“Honestly, save me the trouble of all these ridiculous guesses.” Alex heaved an impatient sigh and gazed at Kara expectantly. Kara looked down at her hands, then giving in to an inarticulate urge she leaned over and placed a quick kiss on the corner of Alex’s wry lips. Alex in turn blinked in shock, once, twice, then started to back away. “Ah, ok. That’s …” No cue cards in this happy little talk for that, she thought, mustering every reserve to halt her inclination to flee.

“I woke up this morning from dreaming about you and this same thing happened.” Kara gestured to her lap. “It went down a bit before I came to the DEO but … when you touched me just now.” Kara swallowed. “This is a lot more substantial than this morning.” Alex nodded, trying to insert a little distance without overtly appearing to do so. “Your heart’s beating really fast.” Kara observed, looking Alex over with interest.

“I just need to …” Alex closed her eyes and shook her head. What did she need to do to fix this? That was the obvious question.

“I always want to kiss you.” Kara confessed. “I always wanted to well, you know.” Kara rolled her eyes, “Way before this.” Alex’s opened her eyes and watched Kara who shyly watched back. “I get this feeling in the bottom of my stomach when you sleep over and you let me snuggle.” Kara took a deep hitching breath, drawing her hands away from her lap, she looked down at her clit. It was starting to throb uncomfortably. “And talking to you about this right now, is making this hurt.” Kara glanced back up at Alex, a grimace on her face. Alex moved to get up from the couch but Kara caught her hand, her fingertips deceptively gentle. “Please don’t go away.” Kara’s voice was whisper soft. It sounded so innocent on Alex’s ears and yet she couldn’t fathom what it was suggesting.

“Kara I …” Alex hedged, wanting to extricate herself from Kara, from the situation, but needing, underneath that very practical consideration of things, to stay.

“Please, Alex.” Alex turned, meeting the pleading in Kara’s gaze with no adequate defense. “Don’t go.” She squeezed Kara’s fingers, nodding, okay. 

“Go put on some pajamas.” Alex nodded in the direction of Kara’s bedroom. “I’ll grab the ice cream. We can watch your favorite.”

“Yay!” Kara clapped happily, and leaving the hoodie behind on the couch dashed off obediently. Alex shook her head, not sure how anyone could get that excited about a British reality television show about baking. “It’s the cakes, Alex, the cakes!” Kara called from the bedroom as if reading her mind. Alex rolled her eyes, heading into the kitchen. She sighed, crisis averted, if only temporarily. She tried not to focus on Kara’s revelation. There’d be time enough to talk when Kara’s hormone levels dropped. There was no point in trying to have a rational conversation right now in the midst of Kryptonian puberty.

 

“Kara.” Alex cleared her throat, feeling groggy. Her voice rasped from sleep. She remembered binge-watching season three of that baking show with Kara on the sofa and growing steadily more drowsy by the lilting tones of all those politely competitive Brits. For some reason Alex found British accents to be incredibly soothing around bedtime. An involuntary shiver radiated down her spine as Kara snuggled close. Kara must have brought her to bed and now they lay as they had when Kara was still so new to Earth, when she’d been so terrified of the world and the only comfort she’d sought was that which Alex could give. 

Kara made it impossible not to be drawn in, Alex mused. Kara had always been exceedingly warm in comparison to human core temperature. Alex theorized it was a Kryptonian evolutionary adaptation to the significantly cooler red dwarf star around which Krypton revolved. Cooler temperatures on the surface, evolved warmer core temperatures of those species equivalent to mammals on Earth. It meant Kara’s extremities were inevitably hot. Her fingertips against the bare skin above Alex’s heart had often felt like a brand, forever imparting Kara’s mark. How many nights had she fallen asleep like this, Kara’s face against her neck? She felt the beginning prick of sweat in response to the heat of Kara’s hand against her chest. “We can’t …” Alex grasped at Kara’s elbow.

“We always sleep like this.” Kara groaned at being drawn from the comfort of sleep. She mumbled protest, breath hot against Alex’s neck. She could feel the speeding hammer of Alex’s heart under her hand, hear the frantic whoosh, thub dub. Alex drew a deep breath that skittered out between her lips wild, darting.

“We used to sleep like this.” Alex corrected as she shifted to pull away but Kara mewled like a kitten and snuggled closer, sliding a thigh between Alex’s legs.

“Why?” Kara persisted, petulant and clinging to the last vestiges of sleep in spite of Alex’s clear insistence on the argument. 

“You aren’t little anymore Kara and ...” Alex squeezed her eyes shut, counting. She could feel her pulse heavy just above the base of her hips. She pressed back against the mattress, willing herself to calm. 

“And you can’t protect me from you?” Kara’s nose tickled soft against Alex’s cheek. “You’re right. But I don’t need protecting anymore Alex.” Kara’s breath felt so warm and tepid against Alex’s neck, each word a moist exhalation.

“But you said you’d always need me.” It was impossible to will the hurt out of that statement. Alex couldn’t deny that she needed Kara to rely on her as much as she hoped Kara needed her. 

“I will. I do.” Kara replied softly, fully awake now. Somehow she managed to cuddle closer, in the process of which her thigh slid snug creating pressure and friction and heat that nearly drew a moan from Alex’s lips. “I remember when we used to sleep so close like this, sometimes I’d wake up in the morning and you’d still be asleep.” Alex tried to swallow, her mouth felt so dry. “And I could feel your heartbeat.”

“Well, you always slept with your hand over my heart. You couldn’t fall asleep if you didn’t.” Alex replied, matter-of-factly. She felt Kara’s nose tickle her cheek again, breath ghosting against the corner of Alex’s lips as Kara slowly shook her head, no.

“Not there, Alex.” Alex could feel Kara’s lips wide, smiling against her neck, and an accompanying tremble of chuckling that radiated down her chest, across her hips, and dipped low enough to make Alex grunt involuntarily. “I could feel it against my thigh.” Kara shifted again as though to illustrate her point. Alex panted, a subvocal whine clicking in the back of her parched throat and barely brushing past her lips. “I could feel your clit swell and your pulse beating hard and steady.”

“Fuck, Kara.” Alex huffed, chest heaving. “You were just a kid.”

“So were you.” Kara replied easily. “And, that’s five dollars for the swear jar.”

“I didn’t think … I hoped you hadn’t noticed.” Alex was mortified. She remembered waking up on countless mornings, wet and hard with Kara, seemingly oblivious, cuddled impossibly close. Alex had spent every one of those mornings shivering under cold showers, pleading with herself not to think about it.

“It would be impossible not to notice.” Kara grinned. “I was getting poked in the thigh all night.”

“Kara!” Alex could feel her cheeks blazing. “That’s not okay.”

“Well, if that’s not okay, then you probably won’t be too keen to hear the real reason you were having to change your sheets so much.” Kara pursed her lips. “You were a very sound sleeper and you had an involuntary tendency to grind.” A pause, then Kara added humorously, “No, not your teeth.”

“Do you realize Mom thought one of us was wetting the fucking bed every other night well into high school?” Alex started to sit up but Kara’s weight had her well-pinned to the mattress. “And fuck the swear jar. Cause not cool!”

“Uh, I claim no control over and no responsibility for what your hips used to do at night.” Kara murmured, her lips brushing the side of Alex’s mouth. “But now I’d really like to, if that’s okay with you?” Kara placed her free hand underneath them both, grasping just below Alex’s waist. Kara’s hips tilted forward and rotated in a very slow, very deep grind that wrested a full-fledged moan from Alex’s lips. Kara panted, in surprise. “Holy Rao! I did not know it would feel like that.” Alex reached up to place steadying hands under Kara’s arms. She pressed until Kara raised her head. Alex looked into azure eyes she’d known half her life and yet felt like she was meeting a stranger.

“You haven’t done this at all. I mean I know you’ve not done this with anyone else but you um, haven’t touched yourself?” Alex stated more for her own benefit than Kara’s. The prospect of what she couldn’t allow to happen was becoming increasingly enticing. What hadn’t they shared save one or two government-protected, reveal under penalty of treason secrets?

“I was scared. I didn’t think I could …” Kara blushed. “And you already know I haven’t ever been comfortable enough to with a human, knowing I might …”

“I know.”Alex paused, taking a deep breath and urged on more by the need to comfort than to dissuade whatever this was, she began, “First times are scary, regardless of the situation.” She looked down to where Kara was straddling her thigh. “Not that we are doing this now.” Alex cleared her throat, “But when the time comes if you think of being with someone with the same care you take when you hold your hand against my heart, Kara.” Alex traced the fingers of her left hand along Kara’s arm, up her wrist to rest against the hand that was firm against her breast. “With a little effort to be gentle, the last thing you’ll have to worry about is if you’re hurting your partner.”

“And why aren’t we doing this now?” Kara asked, beginning to circle her hips again. It felt so incredible. She dipped her head so her hair fell around them like a shimmering tent. It was impossible for Alex to think of a sound reason initially, only that Kara’s palm against her nipple and Kara’s thigh against her clit, even through a buffering layer of clothing, was a perfection she had dreamt since she was thirteen.

“Because you’re my sister and there are laws.” Alex’s breath hitched as she realized that in another moment with Kara’s continued efforts that issue would become moot. “Kara …” Alex moved her right hand, resting it against the center of Kara’s chest.

“Greg and Marsha totally got busy.”

“You’re citing the Brady Bunch as an argument.” Alex bit her lip, pushed her head back into the pillows as Kara’s hand squeezed, kneading the flesh of her breast. “We’ve talked about how television isn’t reality regardless of what Winn insists on the shoddy basis of justifying his extensive collection of action figures.” Kara leaned forward, her lips a temptation. All Alex had to do was lift her head a half an inch.

“Would you prefer if I just let you hump my thigh in your sleep for old times sake?” Kara arched a devious brow. The brat, Alex thought ruefully. “Obviously I don’t mind.” Kara leaned forward until her lips were against Alex’s ear. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve seen you come.” She whispered. Alex thrust roughly against Kara’s thigh and felt the immediate rush of wet warmth. She sucked in a quick breath of surprise, her body clenching hard. “And I never get tired of it.” Kara pulled back to gaze into Alex’s shocked face. 

“That was unexpected.” Alex murmured, trying to catch her breath. Kara grinned, shaking her head.

“Not really.”

“Try not to look so smug.” Alex retorted. She gave Kara a well-placed shove, knocking her off her perch. Kara landed on her back, giggling of all things. Alex narrowed her eyes. It was the look Kara had received on occasion growing up right before they had a proper row. Intended to establish dominance, it usually ended with Kara stomping off to tattle to Eliza Danvers or possibly just pout. 

Well fuck, Alex thought, this is what insane must feel like. “I just came on my little sister.”

“No, you came in those tight jeans of yours.” Kara shrugged, clearly pleased with herself. “And I just helped.”

“Get out.” Alex muttered.

“Uh, this is my apartment and I’m quite comfortable here.” Kara scrunched her brow favoring Alex with a textbook, don’t be crazy, look. “Besides, I would argue we’ve reached a pretty crucial topic in my sex talk.”

“Out of this bed. Out of this room. While I,” Alex gestured at her damp crotch. “manage this.”

“I thought I was managing it just fine.” Kara chirped.

“GET. OUT.” Alex pointed toward the adjacent main room, storms brewing in her eyes. “NOW.”

“Alright. Alright.” Kara raised her hands in surrender, rolling off the bed, she backed towards the living area. “Rao sake! I thought orgasms were supposed to make people happy.” 

“Don’t say that word!” Alex shouted, burying her face in her hands. “My little sister doesn’t say that word in direct reference to my … Just, no.” Alex blew out a steadying breath, realizing her only choice would be sublimation and denial.

“Well what am I supposed to say?” Kara inquired from behind the room divider. She threw herself on one of the couches.

“I don’t know. Not that.” Alex muttered, finding it unnecessary to shout as surely Kara could hear her. She slipped off the bed and shimmied out of her jeans as best she could. Kara might have had a point about the tightness. It wasn’t exactly DEO standard issue. She stepped out of her underwear, total lost cause, and proceeded to fumble through the drawers of Kara’s armoire. 

“Second drawer on the left.” Kara called, helpfully. Ah, Alex nodded, finding an abundance of Kara’s fitness/leisure gear. She slid into a pair of yoga pants, trying to ignore the distracting combination of skin tight lycra against her crotch and the slowly receding effects of that word that neither of them would be speaking to each other any time soon.

Taking a deep breath to center herself, Alex made her way out into the living area. Kara was already prepared with a full-fledged pout. With the fucking eyes even, Alex thought to herself shaking her head. For the life of her, Alex couldn’t think where Kara had learned the highly effective manipulation technique. It had been a successful tool for getting Kara out of punishments with Eliza growing up and convincing Alex back into situations resulting in punishments without fail. The brat, Alex almost smirked in amusement but tempered her expression at the last instant. She had to be resolute. This wasn’t typical hijinks. This was serious. Alex opened her mouth, already formulating the lecture, pulling from her greatest hits.

“So I just want to start by saying,” Kara pre-empted her. Alex blinked confusion. Wait, what? Kara’s voice was so sweet and hypnotic with those big round eyes, and she looked so sad with that pout … Maybe Alex would just listen for a moment. “I really like … Sno-Cones.” Kara enunciated carefully, brows raised high on her forehead to make the point. Alex could accept Sno-Cones as a neutral euphemism that did not set her brain on fire coming out of Kara’s mouth. Speaking of coming out of Kara’s gorgeous, fucking mouth … Alex closed her eyes, feeling decidedly ill for a moment. Just, no. That kind of thinking will not happen again, she thought. Kara cleared her throat. Alex’s eyes snapped open.

“I .. I’m listening.” Kara smiled brightly and nodded in response.

“And for a very long time,” she continued, ”I have wanted to share Sno-Cones with someone special.” Kara looked down, clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. “There’s no one more special in this world or any other than you Alex.”

“Kara.” Alex sighed, she leaned forward elbows on knees, fingertips pressed against her lips. What could she possibly say that wouldn’t be a lie?

“Alex,” Kara looked up, tears shining in her eyes, “Don’t you want me?”

“I ...”Alex hedged, shaking her head vigorously. “God yes, I do. But right now cannot possibly be the right time for any of this. What I did … I hurt you. I hurt us. We shouldn’t be making things any more complicated until we’ve talked about it.”

“This isn’t about Aunt Astra, Alex.” Kara’s mouth tightened into a firm line. Alex watched as Kara’s respiration picked up, short and rapid, a cherry flush staining her cheeks.

“You’re still angry, Kara, very angry ...” Alex swallowed, and continued. “With me.” She gestured between the two of them with urgency. “We have to fix this, first. Then, maybe we can figure out …” Alex allowed herself a wan smile. “Sno-Cones.” Kara was silent, eyes blank as they had been two weeks ago when she’d arrived home and entertained friends as though she wasn’t shattered inside. 

“I want that, Alex. But things can’t just go back to the way they were” Kara said softly, gesturing at her apartment but indicating her life as Supergirl. “I don’t want them to go back.” She shrugged after a moment, adding. “ I’m not interested in trying to maintain a ruse anymore.”

“Don’t give up on Supergirl.” Alex leaned forward as though to breach the impossible distance across the coffee table. Her voice so well-trained for warning, had settled wholly on fear. “Kara, please don’t.” Kara chewed her lip, eyes restless. She stood up, coming around the table to sit on the couch next to Alex. “I’m begging you.” Alex could feel panic building, her eyes filling with tears. “Please.” She reached out, hands grasping Kara’s. She couldn’t think of a single word. Not one single word that might erase that look from her sister’s eyes. Not one word, beyond, “Please.” Alex scooted forward, wrapped Kara’s arms around her and cupped Kara’s face. Pulling Kara close, too close to see, just close enough to touch, Alex pleaded. 

“When were you going to tell me?” Kara whispered, resting her forehead against Alex’s.

“I …” Alex shook her head, eyes closed. “I don’t know.”

“How could you lie to me? How?” Kara placed every last inkling of desire to believe in her request. “Please don’t lie to me now.”

“I didn’t want you to stop believing in me.” Alex confessed.

“No Alex, you didn’t want me to stop needing you.” Kara shook her head. “Why couldn’t she be my family too?”

“You can hate me.” Alex swallowed, trying this time to hold back her tears.

“Never.” Kara placed her lips over each of Alex’s eyes in turn, allowing last the brushing together of their lips. How could it ever be as Alex had often imagined, when imagination was so limiting a comparison? Kara’s lips, soft and sweet, warm against hers were no longer a dream from which Alex would wake shaken and wanting. Kara’s arms tightened pulling Alex to straddle, squeezing until they were closer than a touch and taut with feeling. Kara kissed until Alex moaned, sucked until Alex panted, licked until the tears rolled steadily from under the lids of Alex’s closed eyes, salting their sweetened lips. And Kara kissed, like she’d been holding onto just this the last half of her life.

Alex stood, pulling Kara up with her and led her back into the bedroom. Kara observed wide eyed as they stood at the foot of her bed and Alex methodically removed every article of her own clothing. Kara had seen Alex nude before but in this moment with the heady mix of anxious desire reordering her senses, Kara was left breathless and amazed. Alex smiled, unable to stem the flattered flush that suffused her under Kara’s attentive gaze. She stepped into Kara’s body, drawing her hands up to rest fingertips lightly against Kara’s face.

“We’ll go slow okay.” She let her lips brush against Kara’s with light, loving pecks, and said. “We’ll only do what feels good for you.” Kara nodded, eager, happy, and wrapped her arms around Alex’s body. She sighed, feeling a surge of arousal that caused her clit to jump and brush against Alex’s abdomen. Kara closed her eyes at the resulting sensation of that simple touch. Alex drew her down for a slow kiss, pulling and directing them back onto the bed. Kara settled carefully on top, her thigh nestling naturally between Alex’s legs. Alex barely skipped a beat, kissing Kara so slowly and deep and attentive. Alex’s hands slid to hold Kara hips. She raised her thigh, rubbing gently against Kara’s mounting wetness. Kara gave an involuntary thrust. She moaned, grinding her clit against Alex’s hip. Alex in turn could feel her own arousal build as her Kara’s muscled thigh slid snug.

“Alex.” Kara couldn’t identify the pleading in her own voice, but knew it to be want. She desperately wanted something only Alex could give.

“I know, baby.” Alex murmured, grinding against Kara’s thigh, she gripped Kara’s hips, fingers dipping into Kara’s solid glutes. “I need you to get me wet first and then …”

“Then?” Kara asked breathlessly, as they picked up the pace, grinding together. Everything felt incredibly heightened. She didn’t think she could control the movement of her hips with any confidence much longer.

“Then I’m going to give you what you want.” Alex replied, she circled her hips, her breath coming in short little gasps that played at the loose wisps of Kara’s auburn hair. Alex felt herself sliding against Kara’s thigh, leaving it slick with wetness. She leaned up capturing Kara’s lips in a another kiss that left them both breathless. “Come here baby.” Alex instructed holding Kara steady long enough to resettle her. Kara hovered between Alex’s thighs, knees digging into the mattress. She gazed down into Alex’s eyes with trust and expectation and raw need. Her chest rose and fell quickly and she waited, desperately wanting Alex to show her what came next.

Alex slowly traced a path between Kara’s breasts, down her taut stomach, through curling, damp pubic hair until her fingers rested upon Kara’s rigid clit. Kara shuddered at the touch, and bit her lip as she felt it evolve from a light brushing to a soft cupping, to a firm encircling. She felt her hips jerk as Alex’s fist slid along her length, so slowly. 

“Alex, that feels …” Kara licked her lips, eyes closing as she gave herself over to the incredible sensation.

“Tell me.” Alex brushed a kiss against Kara’s lips, regaining her attention.

“It feels like I’m going to … I don’t know.” Kara pushed harder against Alex’s hand, feeling herself yearning toward something she’d never before felt. 

“Not quite yet.” Alex released her hold on Kara’s clit, letting it sit delicately in her palm while she gripped Kara’s hip with her free hand. “Come here.” She guided Kara forward, positioning Kara’s clit against her entrance. “You’re going to go inside me now, okay?” Kara nodded. She could feel Alex’s warmth and wetness against her clit as her tip bobbed brushing against Alex’s skin. Alex let go of Kara’s clit, placing both hands to grip, pulling and directing Kara’s hips. Kara, hands steadying herself against the mattress, pressed, inching herself forward, and felt her tip slide just past Alex’s lips dipping into tight warmth. Kara felt herself gripped, and pulled. She gasped and thrust, sank herself deep. Alex shuddered beneath her moaning, and Kara felt Alex’s hips lift. Kara slid further in and cried out at the unspeakable pleasure of being so utterly encased in warmth. Alex wrapped her legs tight around Kara’s hips. She cupped Kara’s face, pulling her forward until their foreheads met and she whispered soft endearments against Kara’s parted lips. Kara felt she was breathing Alex’s breath and whimpered at how sublime.

“Come on baby.” Alex encouraged softly. “Give me what you wanted.” Nodding, Kara did as instructed, thrusting forward with her hips then pulling nearly all the way out. She could feel wetness streaming down her things and it was a curious sensation that even as she was so incredibly surrounded by Alex, she wanted to feel Alex inside as well.

“Alex, I … I need.” Kara grunted, thrusting back in with a bit more force. Alex bucked and clenched holding on to Kara tight, she ground upwards preventing Kara’s movement for a moment. 

“What do you need?” Alex asked. She wound her hips slow and listened to Kara’s sweet sounds of exertion and pleasure.

“I need you inside of me.” Kara whispered. Alex smiled.

“I can absolutely do that.” She gave Kara a little push, waiting as Kara rolled onto her back. Alex rolled with her until she straddled Kara’s hips, riding her hard clit. “Hold that thought.” Alex murmured sliding off of Kara’s clit to much groaning disappointment. Alex quickly spun around, facing away and lowered herself back onto Kara’s clit, beginning to bounce gently. She felt Kara’s hands take gentle hold of her hips guiding her up and down with murmured encouragement. Kara’s eyes were absolutely entranced by the movement of Alex’s lovely round ass. She watched it lift and drop in quick succession as Alex regained a quick rhythm.

But Alex soon gentled her movements, not wanting Kara to cum prematurely. Instead she refocused her energy. Sliding the middle finger of her right hand into her mouth, Alex wet the digit liberally. With her left, she pulled Kara’s thighs open, to examine the soft pink flesh between Kara’s swollen labia. Wetness seeped steadily from Kara’s small opening. Alex wasn’t worried about the fit, given her own slender hands. She placed her middle finger against Kara’s entrance and massaged deftly. Kara’s thighs splayed even wider, hips jerking upward in unspoken welcome.

“Shh.” Alex hushed, massaging Kara’s entrance as she continued to slowly ride Kara’s clit. She watched as Kara’s small opening slowing relaxed clenching and unclenching in time to Alex’s bouncing hips. Carefully, Alex pushed inside, first the tip of her finger, then to the knuckle, and as Kara gave a thrust and a cry, pierced Kara’s tight channel. Alex held her hand steady letting Kara acclimate to the unfamiliar feeling of being filled. She waited until Kara hips began to dance, winding and thrusting. Alex slowly obliged Kara, sliding her finger out and back in, picking up the pace. She timed the winding of her hips and the thrust of her finger, steadily speeding up. She could hear Kara’s groans, less furtive and deeper as Alex ground down hard on Kara’s clit and thrust deeply, widening the fit around her middle finger. Feeling confident of Kara’s readiness, Alex pulled out crossing her middle and index fingers and positioned both at Kara’s entrance.

“Please. Please. Please.” Alex could hear Kara’s steady, whispered pleading and happily obliged fucking Kara with two fingers. Kara was tight but sopping wet, and ever more so as Alex worked her fingers deep, finding the ridge of Kara’s G Spot with persistent accuracy. Alex pressed the fingertips of her free hand against her own engorged clit, rubbing in tight, rough circles. She could feel Kara’s thrusts becoming less and less controlled beneath her. “You’re going to cum for me, baby.” Alex murmured, encouraging Kara ever forward. She ground down, taking all of Kara’s clit, and clenching hard as she wound. Kara keened, her hips jerking sporadically. Alex filled Kara’s tight pussy, thrusting her fingers in deep, twisting as she pulled out only to fill Kara again and again. 

“I’m … I’m.” Kara babbled. She gripped Alex’s hips tight, nearly forgetting her strength. She pumped upwards burying herself even as she felt Alex buried within her. Closing her eyes she felt an inexplicable rush. She cried out, shocked by the sensation. She stilled her movements. Alex held her hand still as Kara’s pussy tightened relentless against her finger, but her hips she ground relentlessly. She was so close. Kara sobbed behind her, fingers digging into Alex’s flesh, no doubt leaving bruises that would be livid in an hour. Alex worked her own clit, taking Kara deep and groaning felt herself tumble over the edge. She gasped for breath, sliding her fingers carefully from Kara’s clenching pussy. She smiled licking them clean. Kara was undoubtedly sweet. Alex could still feel her own walls clenching even as she climbed off of Kara and collapsed on the mattress beside her.

Alex glanced at Kara’s face, soft in repose with a fine sheen of perspiration. Her eyes, heavy lidded, tracked across Alex’s features. Turning over onto her stomach, Alex propped herself on one elbow, and threw an arm across Kara’s waist.

“How do you feel?” Alex inquired, voice soft, not wanting to disturb the moment.

“Pretty incredible.” Kara, worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “But …”

“But …” Alex prompted, surprised at the need for any qualification. Kara nodded, indicating her crotch. Alex glanced, and favored Kara with an amused smile. Kara’s clit still bobbed, standing upright and fully engorged even as it gleamed wet with cum. “Why am I not surprised?” Alex shook her head. Tugging Kara’s arm, she murmured, “Well, come here then.” Kara obliged shifting on top of Alex, belly to back. Alex hummed pleasantly, loving the feel of Kara’s weight on top of her, she lifted her hips, feeling Kara pressed hard against her ass. Kara in turn ground against Alex, feeling her clit slide delicious along Alex’s crack.

Kara dipped her head, pressing her lips against the back of Alex’s neck. Alex shivered, as much turned on as tickled. Laying down flat against the mattress, Alex raised her hips to offer Kara better access and instructed, “Sit up and pull my cheeks apart, baby.” Ever obedient, Kara did exactly as directed. She slid her thumbs carefully along the soft skin between Alex’s lovely round ass cheeks and pulled, carefully separating until the tight pink bud was revealed. “Good girl.” Alex hummed, wiggling a bit for Kara’s benefit. Kara bit her lip watching Alex’s hips sway under her hands. “Now I want you to use your tongue and get that tight little hole very wet.” Kara felt her mouth water immediately at the thought.

Eyes wide, Kara dipped her head forward, placing her tongue exactly as requested and licked tentatively. Alex’s breathy moan in response only served to bolster Kara’s confidence. She swiped messily, rolling her tongue against Alex’s tight sphincter until saliva was dripping liberally from her chin and filling Alex’s crack. She pushed her tongue against the opening feeling her excitement build as it began to open, giving a bit more with each pass. Alex moaned with growing passion, hips wiggling against Kara’s face until finally she lifted her head. Huffing mightily, she gazed back at Kara with command in her darkened eyes.

“I want you to fuck me there, baby. Right now.” Kara nodded, mesmerized. She lifted up, scooting into position. She let the tip of her clit brush against Alex’s tight opening. Alex’s hips jumped, pushing back, eager for Kara’s entrance. “Now, baby.” Alex pleaded and Kara happily obliged with a calculated thrust that slid her tip past Alex’s tight entrance. Kara almost came with just that simple sensation. She watched as Alex dropped her forehead to the mattress, muffling a shout of pleasure. Kara pushed her hips forward, sliding deeper even as Alex’s ass clenched tightly. Kara mewled, grasping Alex’s hips. Kara pulled, countering the movement with a sharp thrust until she slapped soundly against Alex’s ass feeling her clit settle all the way inside Alex’s rear passage.

Alex grunted, reached back to clasp Kara’s fingers with one hand, the other reaching between her own legs to rub frenzied circles against her clit. “Fuck me, Kara. Hard.” Alex gasped. Kara withdrew, her tip barely passing the threshold and thrust back in before pulling rapidly out again. She lent a bit of speed to the task, her hips, pistoning back and forth with an intensity that left Alex, breathless, whining and coming in seconds. Even as Alex collapsed, Kara’s hips continued to grind, drilling Alex deep. Alex moaned, fingers clenching the blankets, her body bouncing against the mattress with each of Kara’s thrusts.

“Almost, almost …” Kara whispered, eyes raking over Alex’s bare back. She felt cum beginning to seep down her inner thighs as she drew closer and closer. Beneath her Alex clenched, crying out as she came again shuddering under Kara’s relentless attention. Kara leaned forward, draping herself against Alex’s back. She liked the feel of her breasts against Alex’s cool skin as she pumped into Alex’s ass. She felt Alex clench again, with a sobbing moan. The sound, sent a torrent of fluid gushing from Kara’s pussy even as she continued to thrust deeply. She was so close. Alex reached back clutching at Kara’s neck. She pulled, guiding Kara forward until their lips met in a searing kiss, and Alex bit. Kara closed her eyes at the pressure on her lower lip, and strained, pushing impossibly deep. Kara froze, paralyzed as she felt herself explode into Alex’s ass. Alex trembled crying out one last time.

 

That’s what she … Fuck it.

 

Even without the buzz promised by caffeine, Kara could appreciate the aroma of coffee in the morning. She stretched, arms long above her head, pointing her toes and sighed happily. She’d slept better than she could remember ever having done. Hopping off the mattress, she padded out into the main area of the loft, bare feet tapping lightly against the hardwood. As expected, she found Alex seated in the kitchen, sipping absently at a mug while thumbing through the contents of her phone. Messages from the DEO, Kara would guess. Unlike Kara, who’d ventured out in little more than a grin, Alex had slipped on one of Kara’s tee-shirts, barely long enough to cover Alex’s lovely round ass. Kara tilted her head regarding the edge of the tee-shirt as it slipped upward each time Alex took a sip of her coffee.

Kara breathed deeply, feeling the now familiar rush in her groin. Mesmerized by Alex, Kara didn’t need to look down to know what the steady pulse between her legs indicated. In that moment, Alex looked up as though sensing she was being watched and met Kara’s heady gaze. She quirked an indulgent grin, placing her mug down on the kitchen island and spun to face Kara fully. Alex leaned back, elbows on the counter behind her, posture every inkling of nonchalance. “Well?” She murmured, raising her eyebrows expectantly at Kara. An instant later Alex squealed as she felt  
herself swept up in Kara’s arms, not even seeing the flash of Kara’s swift crossing from the other side of the room. 

Alex laughed, looping her arms around Kara’s neck and wrapped her legs around Kara’s waist. She looked deep into Kara’s eyes seeing hunger and affection. She placed a kiss against moistened lips and hummed feeling Kara’s clit rubbing against her ass cheeks. Alex leaned back a bit and Kara readjusted her hold letting Alex slide lower. “I love that you wake up ready for me.” Alex leaned forward, whispering in Kara’s ear as she shifted her hips forward, taking Kara’s rigid clit inside her pussy in one easy thrust. Kara groaned at the incredible sensation as Alex gyrated, picking up an easy rhythm. Kara cradled Alex against her with one hand, reaching out to steady them against the kitchen island. She planted her feet, finding her balance and began to thrust, meeting Alex with wet, slaps.

Alex breathed, lips against Kara’s neck, teeth grazing tenderly. She nearly wept at how quickly adept Kara had become. Alex tightened the muscles of her thighs, ankles crossed in the small of Kara’s back. She pulled Kara in, taking each thrust as deep as she could, and ground until she could feel her own clit rub against Kara’s muscled stomach. With one hand, Kara held onto Alex’s hips, focused singularly on humping. In a breath Kara was coming and Alex, pushed quickly over the edge, joined her. As their movements gradually stilled, Alex savored the feeling of Kara inside her for one last moment in the quiet of their mingled breathing. Then unwrapping her legs, she let Kara slide out and place Alex carefully back on her feet.

“That was.” Kara blushed, looking into Alex’s eyes.

“Yeah.” Alex agreed, cupping Kara’s cheek lovingly. She placed her hand on Kara’s chest and stepped away, needing a bit of distance to gather herself. 

“So, what happens now?” Kara asked, feeling suddenly a bit awkward even as she felt infinitely closer to Alex.

“Get dressed. Go to work.” Alex shrugged, reaching for her coffee mug she allowed herself one last sip. Steadied, she offered Kara a reassuring smile. “Don’t stress. We’ll talk about it.” She gave Kara’s hand a squeeze as she slipped by headed for the bathroom, a shower, and an internal pep talk on what the fuck just happened?!”

Kara watched silently, pondering as Alex slipped away. She didn’t pretend to understand half of what she encountered on Earth when it came to social customs and expectations. It was difficult enough just growing up here much less deciphering such foreign cultural practices. She heard the shower turn on in the bathroom. Imagining Alex’s lithe body under the hot spray was enough encouragement for Kara to shrug a smile broadening her lips. With supernatural speed quickening her steps, she accepted Alex’s suggestion wholeheartedly and resigned herself to far less stressful pursuits than determining whys and what ifs. Alex’s shriek of delighted surprise was music to Kara’s ears.

“On top of everything else,” Alex murmured, as Kara slid deeply into her one more time. “it figures you’d be insatiable.”


	8. Please Read The Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For author's notes and disclaimer, please refer to chapter one.

Cry Fury  
Three years Ago

It was early, yet. And soon, the magnificent entryway would echo with hurried footsteps. And too soon, an army of wizards and witches would stream from the floos, filling the Ministry of Magic with its daily reinforcement. Good morning to the eager and reticent alike, so it would begin, another tepid marking on the calendar. But not today, Hermione could contend, as her intent for this day was different. She stood at what would soon be the epicenter of fervid activity. Above her, the Ministry loomed in countless story upon story of departmental offices. For once, today, none would elude her reach, ignore her commitment, claim her unworthy of audience. Today, with tears in her eyes and the name of a fallen comrade signed upon her lips, she would keep her life’s greatest promise, to be heard. 

She waited until she stood amidst the rushing multitude, surrounded in a whirlwind of productivity. She placed her wand against her throat, voice amplified to reach the most distant corners, the Ministry, Wizarding Wireless, and those connected along the Floo Network. It would be a pronouncement she’d made certain no one would miss. But first, she concentrated on the encouragement of those who stood closest to her, those precious few with whom she’d shared this audacious plan. These were her staunch companions. They had faced far greater enmity in these walls than they had faced against the darkness of the second wizarding war. Among them, no bellicose red-head nor dark-haired, bespectacled lad. Yet she was not alone and now here again to stand against tyranny, or be felled by it. Gaining the undivided attention of nearly every member of wizarding society, Hermione drew a single calm breath and spoke.

"Brothers, sisters, because we are united with ties as strong as blood in this struggle, you are all my brothers and sisters. Hear me when I say to you, they want to kill us. They do. They shame us not because we should be ashamed but because they want us dead. They shame us, swearing the perspiration of our work has no worth. They shame us, declaring our culture of resilience a curse. They shame us, sparing no effort to demonize the right of our birth. But we are not ashamed, brothers and sisters. We are not ashamed."

"If blood shall be judged, than the purest is that which is pumped by the heartbeat sustaining this movement. The purest is the blood spilled by those brothers and sisters killed for daring to dream of our collective revolution. The purest is the blood that will one day invigorate a world where equality isn’t the dubious design of those who would hand out death rather than change. If blood could be judged, brothers and sisters, then the purest blood is that which fills the hearts of those who know We Are Not Ashamed."

"And when we march, they will know the might of our voices for it is as one voice which may never be silenced by hate. And when we march, they will fall short of their convictions and turn away from these practices which disenfranchise and separate on the basis of blood, that which shall not judged. Hear me when I say, brothers and sisters, that when we march they will have no doubt of the abiding strength of our revolution which only grows stronger here, now, today, and every day that we unite, that we raise our voices, that we say, we are not ashamed."

"We stand together tonight before this ministry to challenge the legitimacy of a government that institutionalizes hate, that equates discrimination with the rule of law, that finds itself at cross purposes with a covenant of justice for any and all. We are here tonight brothers and sisters, to demonstrate for those who insist us inferior, for those who deem us unwelcome, for those who bear us enmity, we are not ashamed. Say it with me. We are not ashamed! We are not ashamed!"

The voices rose like flames licking at the foundations of the Ministry of Magic. Too caught up in the energy and the fervor to see a wand leveled upon her, Hermione chanted glorious, unrestrained. It was but an instant of triumph, witnessed by all, even those faces clouded in contempt and bent on violence.

 

6 months  
Present Day

“When Paige was twelve, in the first couple of months we were on the road, I had this brilliant idea.” Prue’s smile dazzled as she looked around the dining room meeting in turn the gaze of each of the guests present. Prue couldn’t remember the last time the manor had been thus filled with good cheer. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d truly had something to celebrate. She and Phoebe had taken great pleasure in stringing the banner in the foyer, Congratulations Paige! The Beauchamps had flown in from East End, Cordelia from London, and even Kara Zor-El had arrived, albeit in uniform. Piper hadn’t agreed to cater without any prompting and stood now in attendance with an expression believably pleasant and welcoming. Paige, with her academic regalia draped open over her shoulders, stood in the midst of all who’d come to celebrate her accomplishment. She beamed with excitement and pride that had inspired quite a few teary eyed moments for Prue. All grown up, Prue found herself thinking over and again.

“I thought I was supposed to be making a speech.” Paige stage-whispered to Phoebe who snickered. 

“Hush, it’s a toast.” Prue retorted to chuckles all around. Taking a deep breath to steady her voice in spite of the threat of tears, she continued. “I thought the best place to avoid detection by the many factions hunting us was to lose ourselves in a particularly well-populated scene.”

“She chose Brazil in the middle of Carnival season.” Paige pointed out, looking askance as though to say, and this was my court appointed guardian.

“Last warning.” Prue subdued her own laughter, and tried for a stern look that failed miserably. Paige rolled her eyes and raised her hands in submission. Cordelia slid an arm around Paige’s waist with a loving squeeze. She was wholly familiar with this tale and her eyes danced with delight at Prue’s choice to share it. “So anyway, we’re in Sao Paolo not five minutes, the crowds, the noise insane. I look up and she’s gone.” Prue snapped her fingers for effect. “Like that.” Gasps and murmurs of sympathy throughout the room. Phoebe chuckled, shaking her head. Paige pursed her lips but remained silent. “I learned two immediate lessons.” Prue held up her index finger, “The first was, it’s pointless to panic.” She held up her hands seeing disbelief on the faces of several of their friends. Nodding she assured, “No I know, it seems like panic would be justified. But by then I knew that if she were truly in harm’s way, Cordelia would be there at her side to protect.” Cordelia blushed, tilting her head and smiling at Prue who winked and blew her a kiss. A round of Aw’s circulated which Prue waved off, feeling warmth fill her own cheeks for a moment.

“So, I did the opposite. I checked into our hotel. I grabbed a bite to eat, had a bath and a glass of wine. Once I felt sufficiently clear-headed, I proceeded to scrye for and track down this little delinquent who was smoking weed with a bunch of teenagers watching the festivities on a rooftop.”

“In my defense …”Paige held up a hand turning to their guests. Phoebe shook her head no, placing her hand over Paige’s mouth and turning her back around to face the music as it was.

“Of course she’s surprised to see me and even more surprised when I calmly invite her to accompany me back to the hotel.” Prue grinned, laughing intermittently as she recalled. “I think she was just so high and simultaneously shocked that she came along without argument.” Prue cleared her throat, gazing fondly at Paige. “You all have to understand that raising a magical child who can orb anywhere in the world in an instant, means you have to be incredibly sophisticated about discipline. Thoughtless punishment can backfire and I knew from my own reckless childhood shenanigans and Phoebe’s for that matter, that if Paige had the Halliwell gene, she’d be willful and would more often than not out-maneuver any attempt to keep her sequestered.”

“I’ll say.” Phoebe muttered remembering her own introduction to that difficult lesson when Paige was fifteen and took advantage of Prue being absent on business. There had been a moment when Paige had let Phoebe know in no uncertain terms who was in charge. Phoebe had spent three days trying to track down her baby sister while lying every time Prue called to check in on things. When Prue returned and Paige had not, the showdown that ensued was epic. Three years of experience had taught Prue a lot about child-rearing and about a much faster means of locating Paige than a simple scrying spell. Apparently Prue didn’t reveal all the tricks up her sleeve to Paige who materialized in the manor naked and confused after Prue cast what she called her wrangling spell. The lecture Prue proceeded to deliver had been a barn burner ending with Paige stomping up the stairs to the attic to start on her punishment of indefinite duration - Latin translation, the entire manor library. Eight years later and Paige still wasn’t finished with that punishment which Prue diligently checked of an occasion.

“Still mad about that, huh?” Incorrigible grin in place, Paige murmured knowingly and nodded at Phoebe as if to say, it’s written all over your face you don’t have to say a word. Phoebe glared but refrained from voicing the natural response. Paige leaned over and pecked her noisily on the cheek.

“Don’t get me wrong.” Prue laughed, watching the exchange between her sisters. “I wanted to shake her to death. Seriously. There was a moment as we were walking back to the hotel and she was whining about being hungry that her life was truly in peril.” Paige smirked. Prue was all bite. In ten years, surely there had been moments that Paige had tested the limits of Prue’s patience resulting in an intemperate exchange, but ultimately the eldest Halliwell sister had been loving and protective.

“We got back to the hotel room and I told her I was disappointed that she had made a choice that would put her life in danger. I told her I would never recover from the heartbreak of losing her and that in the future if she wants to take a chance and do something that could cost her life, to think first about how I might be affected. That was all it took, really.”

“Really?” Paige piped up. “That’s it? Nothing else?” She challenged, brows high on her forehead.

“And then she and I spent two weeks in the hotel studying the craft.” Prue said simply, a peaceful if amused smile gracing her features.

“Instead of participating in Carnival.” Paige clarified.

“We listened to the festivities outside and spent two weeks on the first spells every witch should learn. She begged and pleaded but I remained firm.” Prue continued her story. “ The important part was, I could see that she had a phenomenal mind, great talent, and a work ethic even with distractions. I watched her fall in love with the craft and I never had to ask her to promise me she wouldn’t disappear like that again. I could see that she understood that her unique power conferred with it endless responsibility.”

“Like Spiderman.” Paige coughed, feeling Phoebe’s elbow dig into her side.

“Sure, there were plenty of times afterwards that I wanted to shake her to death but clearly I didn’t. We survived and now here we are celebrating her incredible accomplishment.” Prue raised her glass, bubbles rising from the golden liquid within. She watched as family and friends mimicked the movement. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, nugget. Cheers.”

“Cheers!” Paige smiled, trying not to feel irked at the ever-embarrassing childhood nickname. She tipped back her glass, and downed the champagne. A moment later she was smothered in the embrace of Phoebe, Cordelia and Prue.

“So proud of you kid!” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Alright already, enough.” Paige laughed under the treatment. “You guys have been hugging me all weekend.”

“Cause we love you, sweetie.” Cordelia pressed a kiss against Paige’s right cheek and Prue sniffled, a single tear escaping as she rested her forehead against the left.

“She’s right enough already.” Piper interrupted, a bland look in her eye. Paige raised an expectant brow as Phoebe, Cordelia and Prue stepped reluctantly aside. 

“Pipes.” Paige stated simply, her expression bored. Piper stepped forward, crushing Paige in a hearty if quick embrace.

“Congratulations Paige.” Piper drew back, a small and utterly genuine smile on her face. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Paige replied her voice inadvertently cracking. Paige swiftly wiped at the corners of her eyes and cleared her throat. “So anyway.” Paige raised her voice to address the entire room. “I couldn’t have accomplished any of this without all of you. Thank you for being here and helping to celebrate. Now enough speeches. Let’s party!” The lights gave way to a dimmer more atmospheric display and as if by magic, music soon filled the house with an intoxicating beat. Spirits flowing generously into cups, neighbors, Paige’s classmates, Phoebe and Prue’s colleagues from work, and a few of Piper’s employees at the Patisserie began to arrive. The manor was packed and jumping in no time. Prue had smartly staggered the party times on the invitations to allow for a more private dinner affair followed by an all out fete Mardis Gras style. Paige had to admit, her sister absolutely knew how to throw a shindig.

Paige lost herself on the makeshift dance floor in the sitting room conveniently cleared of furniture. It was a good hour and a half of accepting congratulatory shots from friends and agreeing to one more dance before she managed to slip out the side door to the patio. She found a couple of Piper’s employees sharing a joint. Shrugging, she accepted the offer of a quick puff. She grinned her thanks and stepped away, in search of a quiet place to catch her breath. She picked carefully around the side of the house towards the backyard. It too was alight and brimming with revelers, wireless speakers pumping out music to a secondary dance floor that was just as frenetic as the energy inside. Paige studiously avoided the scene, choosing instead to duck into a hidden corner between the yard and the alley. She knew the trellis work to be particularly sturdy here having encouraged overnight guests to use it while she was in high school. She climbed up with ease, her presence hidden by the shadowy corners of the manor. The roof was bathed in moonlight. From the street-facing side, she could see well past the city to glimpse the majestic rise of the Golden Gate bridge. She sighed, sitting at last to rest.

“I’m surprised you didn’t orb up.” Kara murmured, breaking the relative silence though the sounds of the party drifted up in fits and spurts. 

“Ounce of caution.” Paige replied, spying Kara a few feet away, blending into the darkness. Too many civilians down there to risk such an obvious display of magic. The less obvious displays like the lights and the music and the refrigeration charms on all the wine and liquor bottles, well … that could be easily overlooked in the midst of such gaiety.

“So, how was magic school really?” Kara asked, amusement tingeing her voice.

“Exhausting.” Paige admitted with a deep sigh of relief. “There’s a protocol for everything and so many hoops to jump through. I’m glad it’s over.”

“Does this mean you’re an official member of their private club?”Kara asked.

“Wizarding Society?” Paige clarified and nodded. “Yes it does.” After six months of sleep deprivation and weary toil, she still wasn’t certain herself what that truly meant in the grand scheme of things. She’d been a witch and half whitelighter long before Hermione Granger and her beloved Ministry of Magic came knocking on her door. Spending six months in a magical apprenticeship bingeing on textbooks and learning far more than just new spells, had been … again, exhausting. Beyond that, she hadn’t had a moment to process what any of it meant. Not to mention, she’d had to complete the culmination of her prior years of study for her Social Work degree including her internship with DCFS and the second half of her dual concentration in Physics through the extension program. She’d defended her thesis to the Physics department at UC San Francisco, passed her boards and received her license as an LCSW from the California state governing council. Her Masters of Science and Masters of Social Work from Berkeley had been conferred just this afternoon, and over the course of the last week she’d taken and passed her O.W.L.S. All she wanted to do now was climb into bed and sleep for always.

“Your family is so proud.” Kara whispered, a weight in her voice Paige recognized as sadness brought on by envy.

“They’re great. Turns out I’m kinda lucky I guess.” Paige replied easily. “You too, you know.”

“Me too, what?” Kara drifted closer as though carried by a current. She settled close at Paige’s side, their shoulders brushing and knees touched in identical crossed-legged postures.

“Lucky.” Paige leaned against Kara, letting their heads rest against each other.

“I am.” Kara agreed noncommittally.

“I read that piece about you on CatCo media online this morning.” Paige hummed. “Your ex-boss sure doesn’t pull any punches.”

“Nope, she definitely doesn’t. Luckily for me and the gallery, the rest of the buzz has been overwhelmingly positive.” Kara chuckled. Paige had yet to see the work in Kara’s show firsthand but she had seen countless pics via text as Kara was creating it. Even via the medium of a small photo on the screen of her mobile, the work was stunningly evocative. In Paige’s most honest opinion, Kara had found her true calling in modern sculpture. After a video of Kara’s artist talk at her opening had gone viral on Youtube, no one in the art world seemed to disagree with that assessment. Perhaps that was why Paige felt a shiver of discomfort whenever Kara appeared in real life not as Kara Danvers, newly crowned high art goddess of hipsters and art critics alike, but instead, shrouded in the inky black uniform of General Kara Zor-El whose movements and intentions remained quite elusive even to those with whom she was closest.

“And …” Paige paused, hesitating at the threshold of the one topic of conversation with which she’d seen Kara truly struggle. “How’s Alex?”

“Paige.” Kara murmured, appearing as though she were preparing to draw away.

“Come on Kara, don’t.” Paige placed a gently restraining hand on Kara’s forearm. Kara glanced down attention caught on Paige’s wrist. Kara reached out to finger the glass bauble that Paige hadn’t removed since it had been placed there.

“I love her, you know.” Kara whispered, sounding broken by the admission. “But I just can’t seem to … I can’t forgive her.” Paige clasped her hand, grasping it tightly.

“Stay tonight?” Paige asked and smiled when Kara’s affirming nod jostled both of their heads. She pressed a quick kiss to Kara’s temple. There was still something inexplicable in the way Paige was drawn to Kara. Even with the question of Alex looming between them, there was that pull, undeniable. Months ago when Kara had confessed having slept with Alex, Paige had been thankful for the distraction of her studies. There had been little time to mire herself in the confusion she felt least of which had anything to do with reconciling the sexual relationship between Kara and her adoptive sister. With attention drawn to dealing with the Host, they hadn’t ever taken a moment between them, Paige and Kara, to address the thrall that so often built when they were in close proximity. Paige knew Kara wrestled with the torment of desire weighed against duty. The last thing Paige wished was to be an additional burden. But what to do, when just being this close, her tripped?

“Good. Now let’s find you something a little less conspicuous to wear so you can join my Mother F’ing graduation party!” Paige whooped, orbing them to her bedroom. Kara noted Paige’s orbs, in comparison to when they’d first met, had taken on a sound more like wind chimes accompanied by aurora borealis rather than sparking fireflies.

“Did you change …” Kara hedged, eyeing Paige in confusion.

“My transportation calling card?” Paige pursed her lips nodding in overt satisfaction. “Sure did. It’s a little something I’m still working on at the moment. Orbing is ultimately an entrance. It makes a statement and I’m still figuring out exactly what it is I want to say. There are just so many options.” Paige disappeared into her closet as though to illustrate her point. 

“Nothing too …” Kara called in warning, knowing Paige’s party wear tended to be a great deal more flashy than Kara was accustomed. 

“Calm down Mildred, it’s just jeans and a tank.” Paige replied as she emerged with the ensemble in question. “Like I don’t know you?” Paige grinned. “Get dressed and come down. I know you can’t take shots but Freya and I have something special …” Paige sang in her excitement and winked, “You are going to love.” Paige stepped out of her room, closing the door behind her and leaving Kara to her privacy. Leave it to Paige to know how to get her mind off of, well, everything. Kara shimmied out of her uniform and placed it on the bed. She traced her fingers over the crest which Paige had bestowed in a moment that Kara truly thought she’d lost who she was. It only took one glance to be reminded. She quickly redressed and was just pulling on her boots when she heard the commotion outside. It sounded to be coming from the front porch.

Unable to use her typical speed as she maneuvered through the crowded house, it took time for Kara to reach the front door. Several of the guests filled the foyer trying to get a glimpse at the porch. Others were lined up at the windows of the street facing sitting room. Though the music continued to blare its inviting rhythm, no one was dancing. Kara noted that Halliwells and Beauchamps alike were conspicuously absent from the group of anxious guests inside. Kara carefully shouldered her way to the front door and in spite of several protests by genuinely frightened people, muscled it open and slipped out of the house.

The front porch itself was empty. The Beauchamp clan spread out across the front lawn like a line of defense. Kara paused, at the steps, glad of her vantage point. From there she could see the distance down to the street where the Halliwells faced off against …

“Leo.” Kara whispered in consternation. There was no way. These last six months the servants of the so-called Host had been imprisoned for all intents and purposes on a near derelict space vessel hidden behind the moon. It defied reason that he should be standing in the middle of this relatively quiet neighborhood street. Behind her Kara could hear whispers through the door of the guests assessing what some had seen.

“I swear he just appeared.” One tremulous voice said. “Out of nowhere.” Fuck it, Kara shrugged. At this point, maintaining any sort of undercover guise seemed fruitless. She took to the air in a graceful leap, landing softly in the street at Paige’s side.

“Hey.” Kara murmured in greeting, eyes locked on Leo. He appeared none the worse for wear so clearly no one had shot him anywhere yet. But his eyes were wild and his mouth drawn in a grim line that suggested this quiet moment of inactivity could very swiftly come to an end.

“Yep.” Paige replied with meaning, her eyes also trained on the whitelighter. In the presence of her older sisters, despite exuding waves of palpable contempt, Paige was steady. It would be Prue’s call what happened next. 

“I’ve come to warn you.” Leo spoke up, his voice urgent and not altogether steady. Paige smirked thinking the asshole should be scared considering what was about to happen to him.

“You know I don’t take kindly to threats.” Prue replied easily, appearing totally unconcerned. This was Leo, after all. She could leave any of her sisters to handle such light work and head back into the party. 

“They’re …” Leo began. Simultaneous Paige heard a whooshing, felt a slight draft by her ear, and watched as Kara stumbled to her knees the dark shaft of an enchanted arrow protruding from her shoulder blade. “... Here.” Leo finished unnecessarily as the street was filled with the blinding display of hundreds of white and darklighters orbing in concert.

“Shit.” Reached Paige’s ears. She wasn’t sure if it was Piper, Phoebe, or her own exclamation. Reaching down, she helped Kara to her feet. Eyes darting between the darklighters arrow and the storm beginning to rage around them. Behind them, up on the front lawn, the voices of the Beauchamp clan rose in steady chanting. Paige immediately recognized the spell. It was for one of the Beauchamp’s impenetrable wards.  
“Paige?” Kara whispered, eyes drooping. She leaned heavily feeling as though her strength had been completely drained. Could the arrow be Kryptonite, she wondered, desperately trying to hold onto consciousness. To their left, Piper was indiscriminately blowing up the encroaching legions of angels. Prue, in turn, had a hand around Leo’s neck giving every appearance that she fully intended to squeeze until his immortality was as reliable as a bad check.

Phoebe appeared on Kara’s other side, helping to heft the Kryptonian who had slid into unconsciousness. “The Beauchamps …” Phoebe shouted over the growing din of Piper obliterating wave upon wave of their enemy.

“I know, we have to hurry.” Paige nodded, then shouted to their sisters. “Piper! Prue! Quick, back to the house!” Prue turned, glancing for but an instant in Paige’s direction, confirming that she’d heard. 

“Come on.” Phoebe hovered off the ground, pulling Kara upward. Paige, recently having honed her own ability to hold an orb in a manner that defied gravity, floated until their charge was easily carried between them back to the lawn and within the circle of protection being created by the Beauchamps. Once there, they deposited Kara on the ground and Paige turned intending to go back and fight at the sides of her sisters. The battle very clearly raged on in the street as more and more of their enemy materialized. Piper was doing an admirable job holding them off while it appeared Prue was intent on wresting something from Leo, be it information or his life.

Phoebe placed a restraining hand on Paige’s arm and shook her head, no. “Prue and Piper have got this. Stay here and see to Kara.”

“What about you?” Paige asked.

“I don’t need to be down there to kick ass.” Phoebe replied with a smug grin. She stepped away, standing at the barrier’s edge and began to chant. Her words rose over the low hum of the Beauchamps’ casting. In the air before her, Phoebe’s hands contorted and rolled on nimble wrists. Paige watched as visible streams of energy were pulled, into a tumultuous, roiling sphere that hovered just above Phoebe’s reach. From it lightning streaked in terrific bolts that rent the air with screeching thunder and tore the whitelighters and darklighters it struck to nothing but memory. Paige swallowed, mesmerized by the destruction, but quickly redirected her attention to Kara. 

Sweat was pimpling across Kara’s brow and her breath had become shallow, labored. Paige orbed the arrow out of Kara’s shoulder and pressed her hands to the wound alight with their healing glow. She could feel the damage receding with her ministrations. Kara was lucky, apparently impervious to the curse in a darklighter arrow that poisoned and killed witches on contact. It only seemed to have given the Girl of Steel a fever and an impromptu nap. Even as she confirmed the wound was closed and Kara began to appear a great deal less breathless and pale, Paige remained kneeling and intent, anxious to see Kara open her eyes.

Down at street level, in spite of Phoebe and Piper’s combined efforts to hold the line, the might of numbers was pushing its advantage. Prue, recognizing they were in a losing battle released Leo to grab Piper and drag her back away from the enemy’s advance. Piper struggled at first. Even at a distant it was easy to see a thirst in her eyes, her face contorted in rage. Prue all but manhandled her across the sidewalk and up the stairs to the front lawn. The moment they crossed the barrier the Beauchamps ceased chanting, solidifying the wards so that none could cross.

For moments they all watched as one after another, angels threw themselves at the shielding only to be violently rebuked. There they stood Beauchamps and Halliwells, silent and entranced by the horde surrounding the manor.

“Well.” Prue sighed looking at her companions with resignation. “Fuck.”

 

It took some ingenuity on Piper and Phoebe’s part to author a spell and brew a potion in record time that could utilize Paige’s power to orb. Twenty minutes later with the added power infusion of the Beauchamp witches in the circle, they’d managed to safely send their guests back to their homes under the influence of a memory altering sleep tonic. The most anyone would recall is that Faith Matthews’ graduation party had been epic and there may have been Molly present in some of the baked goods.

“They’re still outside.” Frederick reported, from the attic window.

“But no breaking news vans so …” Phoebe lifted her shoulders as though to suggest maybe things weren’t entirely bad. Paige orbed back into the room to the sound of popcorn popping and a display of purple fireworks. “Mmm, I think I like that one.” Phoebe commented at Paige’s choice of calling card.

“I have them on random, right now.” Paige replied, then turning to address everyone added, “Kara’s still unconscious. I think I need to go see her sister. I’m worried she might need additional care.”

“You can’t leave the protection of the barrier, Paige.” Prue sighed, arms crossed. She’d taken to pacing since they’d sent the guests home. She pursed her lips, halting to regard her youngest sibling. “We’re at war.” She spoke the words as though she herself did not entirely believe them. In the years that they’d anticipated this moment, in the years it had threatened but never come, Paige warranted none of them had ever quite imagined it would feel quite like this. Since they’d been so recently convinced that they’d permanently eliminated the threat of war from their lives, it chafed in a most uncomfortable fashion. In the gaze of each of her sisters, Paige found equanimity in disbelief. How could this be happening?

“Actually.” Paige corrected, and gazed meaningfully at Joanna Beauchamp. “With your help, I can.”

“You know you have it.” Joanna replied, her lilting accent remained soft, her tone seemingly untroubled by the chaos reigning around them.

“You Halliwells have a knack but this is more excitement than we’ve seen in centuries, save that shapeshifter and our father attempting to invade the Earth last year.” Wendy quipped.

“Cool … I guess.” Paige attempted a smile of thanks, then, “Check this out.” She raised her right hand as though swearing an oath. Placing her left palm against it at right angles, she slid the left upwards as though wiping away dust. As the fingers of her right hand touched the palm of her left, she closed them into a fist, dipping under her left hand then splaying her fingertips. Her hands now oriented back to back, she slid them apart in parallel until they bracketed a space twelve inches square in front of her face. Turning both palms in offense across the small expanse, she let the thumbs and middle fingers of each hand meet in a mirror image as though preparing to snap her fingers to an unheard beat. She drew a circle in the air, rotating each hand in counter motion around the same axis and finally did in fact snap. The sound emanated from both hands in careful, simultaneous precision, crisp as the instant it filled the room, and signaled the appearance of an apparition before her. It was translucent and had the look of a wide-screen television image. Furthermore, it unmistakably looked like the main search screen for Google though it read Delphi in place of the familiar rainbow lettering.

“I got this idea from Kara’s heads up display on that blue crystal of hers.” Paige proceeded to type into thin air and pressed search. The query returned a selection of text that Paige scrolled through, committing the spell to memory. Ingrid Beauchamp recognized the language displayed on sight.

“That’s Asgardian.” She exclaimed, then as she translated a few initial phrases, “This is a cloaking spell from Mom’s grimoire.” She gazed at Paige astonished. “How do you have this?” 

Paige grinned and reached into the pocket of her jeans. She extracted her fist and opened it to reveal what looked at first glance like a handful of dimes. Ingrid reached out and plucked one from Paige’s palm and noted upon closer inspection that though they were metal and dime-sized, they weren’t at all monetary. She could feel the buzz of power when she rubbed the circular piece between her thumb and forefinger and on it had been stamped a rune to which she wasn’t at all familiar.

“It’s a spell and a potion, a casting artefact.” Paige explained, she glanced at Cordelia. “Willow told me about this spell she once used back in her Sunnydale days that could essentially drain the contents of books. The nature of the spell allows that whatever is drained can be consumed by any vessel. I altered the spell so that it creates a facsimile of consumption, like instantaneous scanning to a hard drive rather than draining to preserve the original text. This,” Paige held up one of the dime-sized pieces for everyone to see. “Is the hard drive. They can be spelled to work at strengths specific to a given area. I put one in the Library of Congress that has the radius of a mile.” Paige, glanced between Ingrid and Joanna. “With your Mom’s permission, I placed one of these in your house to help with my studies the last six months. I also have one here.” Paige glanced at her sisters then back to Cordelia. “One at the council library, and even one at Hogwarts. I like to pop into places and leave them behind for ease of access. I can confirm nor deny whether or not I have one in the Pentagon.” Paige grinned and nodded as though to say, yes she definitely had one in the Pentagon.

“Somehow that doesn’t seem like a great idea.” Ingrid murmured.

“It’s magic. It’s not like it’s traceable.” Freya countered. “I, for one, think it’s really cool, Paige.”

“Thank you, Freya.” Paige said pointedly, then glanced at Frederick for his input. Ever the voice of reason he largely just seemed confused. Paige warranted she’d probably lost him at HUD or App or probably Google.

“I don’t know if cool, would be my word choice.” Cordelia shook her head. Working with the council, she was a great deal more privy to what government agencies knew regarding magic and untraceable wasn’t entirely accurate. Willow had hinted blithely that she’d been mentoring Paige on a little project, but this was worrisome. Cordelia would need to check-in with her deep throated contacts as soon as the current crisis allowed. She needed to confirm that Paige’s talents were still coasting under the radar. It had taken quite a bit of maneuvering to keep the Halliwells from being disappeared into some nonexistent hole that made gitmo look like a Disney resort. These relationships with secret government agencies were always tenuous and what Cordelia could promise in favor of ignoring high profile witches like the Halliwells had been, until now, a lucrative enough trade. Paige bugging the government to skim classified intel, hopefully had gone without notice or Cordelia would be paying hell to keep all four women out of custody. “You will, remove any and al of those little data skimmers …” Cordelia began only to be interrupted

“Oh, data skimmer.” Paige pursed her lips, nodding. “I like the sound of that.”

“Paige.” Cordelia warned, holding up her do not test me finger.

“Really Cord?” Prue tilted her head. “She showed initiative and as if any black box agency of this government would know what to do if they encountered a witch, for reals and not just some historic throwback to Salem.” Cordelia eyed Prue as though she didn’t recognize her. This is where Paige got it, she realized feeling frustration mount.

“And this?” Phoebe inadvertently interrupted the brewing argument as she waved her hand through the magical approximation of a holographic display. It wobbled and reconstituted largely undisturbed.

“That’s the best part.” Paige grinned, “I actually wrote my final paper at Hogwarts on the integration. Fucking society wizards are so snobby about so-called muggle technology.” Paige rolled her eyes chuckling. “My advisor nearly pissed herself when she saw this.”

“Get on with it Paige.” Piper growled impatiently.

“I call it Delphi, it’s this little app I wrote with the rune for the artefact embedded.” Paige looked at the blank faces around her. She pulled her mobile out of her back pocket, waving it around as if that would make it any clearer. “I have it always running in the background on my phone. Basically it just uses Google’s search algorithm and plunders the hell out of any text within the vicinity of one these artefacts.” Paige stuffed the dime-sized pieces back in her pocket to free her hand in order to toggle the app on her phone. She held it up for everyone to see.

“How do you anchor the display to the app?” Ingrid asked again fascinated despite her misgivings. Paige handed over her phone so that Ingrid could do a bit of exploring, then held up her hands indicating her wrists.

“With these.” Prue looked closer, frowning. As she realized Paige bore a set of matching dime sized runes tattooed on the inside of each wrist. 

“You just couldn’t resist could you?” Prue scolded. Paige rolled her eyes to the ceiling and sighed heavily.

“I’m twenty-three years old and all of three of you got tattoos way younger than I did.” Paige argued.

“In this, she has a point Prue.” Cordelia, ever the peacemaker, rallied back to Paige’s defense though other concerns remained prevalent in her thoughts.

“Piper, Phoebe, and my tattoos are not the issue at hand.” Prue began. “None of us have actual magical artefacts etched in our skin. It’s so beyond dangerous.” Prue threw up her hands building momentum.

“Maybe now’s not the best time to concern yourself with Paige’s decision to permanently mark her body with a magical rune that admittedly could have consequences.” Joanna gave Paige a pointed look. Paige’s mouth worked in confusion. She’d almost expected Joanna to applaud her efforts. Paige remained certain the accomplishment as a whole was ingenious. “Let’s just focus on this cloaking spell.”

“I love that you call it Delphi.” Ingrid whispered, handing Paige’s phone back with a very impressed if not also somewhat amused expression on her face. “It’s great.” Paige offered a saucy wink of thanks in reply.

“Fine.” Prue shrugged, she shot a warning look Paige’s way clearly indicating this conversation was simply on hold. Paige noted that Cordelia seemed to be sending the exact same message Prue’s way. 

“Geez, I thought our family meetings were tense.” Freya whispered quietly to Frederick.

“Our family meetings usually entail a poorly planned and high risk scheme to overthrow Grandfather, so yeah less tense than this.” Frederick whispered back, eyeing the witches around him with a bit of discomfort. He’d grown up surrounded by witches, his aunts, sisters, cousins. There’d been little exception before he was conscripted into his Grandfather’s army where he’d learned that the male energy of wizards was very different from that of his female family members or even his own. Though perhaps that had just been the curse that had squeezed all goodness from Grandfather’s heart and seduced the subjects of an entire kingdom into mindless sycophants.

“Paige is right.” Wendy offered a reassuring smile, hoping to dispel some of the tension thick in the attic. “This cloaking spell is perfect. She can orb out and won’t draw any attention. It’s the same premise we use for East End. It’s part of the reason your mother sought out Joanna’s help in the first place.”

“Awesome!” Paige clapped her hands, and the display disappeared in a blink. “Let’s get started.”

 

London Calling  
Six Months Prior

As a witch, Paige had learned little about actual combat before her sixteenth birthday. She’d been tutored on potions, spells, casting, thermodynamics, countless relevant subjects. In that time she’d been instructed largely by Prue, whose intent seemed to be to make her into a fine librarian. Paige’s time at the Council under the dutiful tutelage of one Willow Rosenberg, only seemed to reinforce Prue’s decision that Paige was safest worrying less about combat magic and more about how to be elusive. Prue had been right, ultimately, after all what need is there of fighting if one cannot be found. When they returned home from England and Phoebe showed up on their doorstep, that particular school of thought was quickly renounced.

Unlike Prue, Phoebe’s active power didn’t develop until several years after they’d been charmed and reinstituted the Power of Three. This meant that even as demons and darklighters were attacking on a fair weekly basis, Phoebe’s only available magical power against those assaults was her gift for premonition. Prue and Piper had taken to handling the more offensive aspects of engaging the enemy and Phoebe was regulated to glorified librarian, a position Phoebe had little intention of retaining. However, being a librarian, Phoebe quickly learned that magic is largely about the redirection of energies. Growing up in the cultural miasma of San Francisco, that early lesson reminded Phoebe of one thing. She’d gone out almost immediately and found a teacher to instruct her in Tai Chi. If magic was about manipulating the free energy around her, then what better way to learn how to harness and direct?

Phoebe, as an older sister, felt an inarguable responsibility to Paige’s education as a Halliwell witch. What she saw, when she’d spontaneously arrived to move back into the manor, was a lazy kid. Sure Paige could parrot any number of esoteric facts about the craft; but ultimately, her greatest demonstration of what she knew was her ability to cast a spell from the sitting room sofa so she didn’t have to go to the kitchen for snacks. And of course, Paige interpreted that to mean she knew everything and Phoebe, as an adult, knew very little worth attention. Though Paige delighted in having a big sister who would take her to concerts at twenty-one and over venues and on occasion slip her a joint; the last thing she needed, by her own estimation, was another overprotective guardian. She’d had parents, and they’d died. Prue and Cordelia had thus far been exceedingly adept at filling that disciplinary void. Phoebe hadn’t been very receptive to Paige’s unsubtle message that Prue’s authority was the only word respected in the Halliwell Household. What ensued, for the first month of Phoebe’s homecoming, could only be described as a death match and Paige was woefully unprepared.

There were screaming matches and insidious pranks that left the house a shambles. Prue, busy trying to keep them financially afloat, had little time to intervene. Phoebe might have also successfully forged with Prue the argument that Paige was going to learn. Period. After Phoebe placed an unspeakable curse on an entire box, freshly opened of Paige’s favorite cereal inducing at first screaming then tears, it was inevitable that they would face off. Paige didn’t have any experience in magical combat; but she did have rage. Unfortunately, Paige also telescoped her intentions as she orbed. While Phoebe had appeared by Paige’s estimation to be unprepared, this was not the case. Phoebe had been centered, settling into her breath and proceeded to teach Paige the first movement of Tai Chi - Part Wild Horse’s Mane. That evening, it was Paige’s responsibility to explain to Prue why Gram’s antique clock in the foyer was listing ominously to one side. Further, why was she covered in My Little Pony band-aids?

Tai Chi practice became part of Paige’s craft. She spent more hours than she could easily reference Pushing Hands with Phoebe in the back yard. Prue, finally convinced after much argument that Paige needed to be able to protect and defend and not just research, had joined the training offering what only she could - the perfect opponent. Phoebe and Prue were ever formidable in their expectations. Lucky for Paige, as she learned calm, focus, and redirection of magical attack over the course of seven years. 

Thus when she set foot for the first time into a classroom at Hogwarts, the ill-timed screech of her Converse canvas trainers against polished stone rendering a classroom full of pre-teens silent, Paige wasn’t plagued by a lack of confidence. 

“You’ve interrupted my class.” The woman was older, mid-forties maybe. Her hair was a curling confusion of black that shone while her equally dark eyes seemed to strip the illumination from the somewhat dim room. Her robes twirled and settled gracefully as she spun to regard Paige with no small amount of contempt. “Somehow I doubt you have an adequate excuse.”

“I’m, uh, …” Paige side-eyed the students sitting ramrod at their desks, wide eyes tracking between their professor and this unexpected source of disruption and possible entertainment. There were no whispers or titters, but Paige had the unmistakable feeling that she was being assessed. She swallowed, gestured pointlessly. “Looking for Professor LeStrange. I have an appointment.” The woman’s gaze traced a disdainful trek from Paige’s Converse up to what she’d thought was a smartly, professional cardigan and blouse combo.

“You’re early.” The woman made a noise of displeasure, adding. “And under-dressed. This is an institution of higher learning not a muggle chip shop.” This did inspire snickering throughout the class, swiftly silenced by a sharp look from … “I am Professor Bellatrix Black LeStrange. I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a subject you, like these useless excuses for wizards and witches, know nothing about.”

“Well, I …” Paige mumbled trying to decide whether or not Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance, since it wasn’t strictly true, was a necessary response.

“Those incoherent sounds coming out of your mouth, are they intended to suggest you are not in fact worthless?” Bellatrix arched an expectant brow. “Well, speak.”

“I’ve been training in my craft for eleven years.” Paige drew herself up importantly. “I am a highly accomplished witch and not some pimply kid you get to talk down to because you get off on your tyrannical machinations at the front of this classroom.” Paige sniffed, tossing her hair for effect. “And my name is Paige Matthews. I’d say Google me, but apparently someone above your pay grade already did.” If a dungeon, which is what that classroom most resembled to Paige, could become uncomfortably more frigid and uninviting; it surely did in that instant. Paige caught a glimpse of one child actually crying in the second row. What had been amusement and interest on the faces of two dozen over-stimulated students now appeared suspiciously like terror. The hell, Paige thought turning to get a second look. In her distraction, she almost didn’t catch the swift swish and flick of Bellatrix’s wrist, the wand in her hand cutting a graceful if severe line through the air.

“Crucio.” It was a word with which Paige was not familiar, but she sensed its intent as it left Bellatrix’s lips. By instinct alone, for there was not adequate opportunity in an instant to be thoughtful in one’s action, Paige settled into her breathing stance and executed the very first movement of Tai Chi practice, the first she’d ever learned at Phoebe’s hand. Calm, focused, Paige could hear the gasp in response to this action emitted in concert by their terrified audience. She also registered the look of outright shock, replacing the well-worn sneer on the face of her unexpected opponent. Bellatrix barely managed to deflect the redirected curse. Paige held herself centered, composed as she eyed this woman who within two minutes of hello, how do you do, had insulted and attempted to curse her. Bellatrix, in her turn, seethed. This is that ravenous T-Rex bearing down on Jeff Goldbloom, Paige mused holding herself steady.

“What is a … Goldbloom?” Bellatrix intoned. She smirked at the surprise in Paige’s eyes. “A highly accomplished witch who does not bear the skill of occlumency? Your mind is wide open to me, you low-born offshoot of base magic.”

“Is that supposed to be a burn?” Paige replied. “I’ve been called the abomination since I was born. In comparison, your derision against what … muggles I think you call them, isn’t terribly incensing.” Paige gazed, her expression contemplative if bland. “Ignorant, yes. Problematic in front of a classroom full of impressionable young minds, yes. Hurtful, to me, sorry, no.”

“You’re right, of course, muggle-born.” Bellatrix’s eyes flashed a grin spreading across her face that made Paige question the woman’s sanity. “Let me show you a burn.”

“Incendio.” Bellatrix voice boomed, powerful enough to encourage several of the students to cover their ears. Paige flowed into White Crane Spreads Wings and Twisting Push. To Bellatrix’s immediate right an entire wall of books and a large laboratory bench at the front of the classroom exploded in flames. Bellatrix cackled as though she were being artfully tickled under those thick black robes. Paige blinked. She hadn’t heard a laugh like that outside of a Disney movie. What followed was a jumble of curses largely unfamiliar to Paige and barely recognizable in Bellatrix’s screeching timbre. Accompanied by the rapid slashing of her wand through the air, Bellatrix was frenetic and deadly. Paige paid little attention to the words as she placed all of her energy moving through her katas with speed and confidence.

“Stupefy!”  
Paige Strummed the Harp.

“Confringo!”  
Paige Stepped Back to Repulse Monkey.

“Expelliaruspicum!”  
Paige Grasped Sparrow's Tail.

“Petrificus Totalus!”  
Paige centered herself in Cloud Hands and watched out of the corner of her eye as several students in the front row appeared to stiffen and fall out of their seats. They lay against the stone floor unmoving. Paige could only assume that the charm wasn’t intended to kill and that Professor LeStrange had not just murdered a handful of children with Paige’s deft assist.

Bellatrix’s breath came in short little huffs, evidence of either frustration or physical exertion. She appeared rabid. Her pale skin had taken on a fairly ruddy hue Paige noted, letting a smile of amusement grace her lips. Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed, and she sent a curse with blistering speed, catching Paige somewhat off guard for the first time since the inception of their delightful little encounter.

“Sectumsempra.” Bellatrix whispered it, delighting as she spoke this magic into power. Paige deflected late, felt a sharp stinging in her shoulder and a faint draft as she barely eluded a similar incursion against her face. Cringing, Paige felt the pain in her shoulder multiply and didn’t not spare more than a glance as the sleeve of her cardigan quickly darkened from its original charcoal grey. If she had the necessary moment, she could heal the wound Bellatrix had inflicted. She already felt herself growing light-headed from rapid blood loss. “Did that sting a bit?” Bellatrix grinned, pointing her wand at Paige’s shoulder to indicate the rents in her sleeve and the flesh underneath. Paige swallowed, closed her eyes. She settled deep into breath, bending her knees, and scooping the air she pulled as though hugging the energy in it to her. Her hands rotated in a widening sphere at her center as she drew ever more, concentrating it.

Bellatrix mid-cackle, head thrown back with dark tresses cascading, vibrated in merriment. Paige loosed, from the balance of her right hand under left, a mirror image of open palm. She took a light step, leaning into the movement, and pushed all she’d gathered forward.

“Elliminaropposizus!” The blast hit Bellatrix dead center of chest, knocking the older witch not just off balance, but tumbling head over feet until she impacted the far wall, quite a distance. Her opposition effectively silenced, Paige dropped to her knees and placed a glowing hand over her injured shoulder. With several deep breaths she concentrated on healing while across the room Bellatrix, tangled in her robes, struggled to regain her feet though not her composure.

“You filthy brat, I’ll get you!” Bellatrix screamed, trying to wrest her wand free enough to cast.

“And my little dog too?” Paige snickered, watching the witch roll about on the floor. There seemed to be some indecision on the part of the students as to whether they should completely avoid looking in Bellatrix’s direction as though blatant denial could somehow save them from having borne witness to this moment. Paige wagged a thumb in Bellatrix’s direction, winking at the mortified audience. “Right? Come on, guys. Wizard of Oz? No one?”

“What is the meaning of this?” Paige twisted, rising from her knees in a smooth motion to take in the glaring countenance of a much older and sterner witch. How many crazed witches was she going to have own in one morning, Paige thought readying herself for attack. “Ah Matthews, is it? I understand you are unfamiliar with protocol here at Hogwarts,” The woman gave Paige a quick up and down glance, surely not just indicating the absence of the regalia worn by everyone else present but her. “I’m sure from your experience in muggle academia that disturbing the instruction of other students is highly irregular and frowned upon as a rule.” 

“Ma’am …” Paige began but was halted immediately by an easily decipherable look. This was not the time for excuses and not a witch with whom one attempted to dissemble.

“That’s Headmistress, Matthews,” The woman corrected coolly, “Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.”

“Uh, pleasure to meet you.” Paige ventured weakly.

“Indeed. My office.” McGonagall replied shortly. She turned for the door, “Bellatrix try and pull yourself together enough to dismiss your class and meet us in my chambers.” Professor McGonagall marched out of the classroom. Casting one last wary glance behind her, Paige followed.

 

“Look, I didn’t come here to be insulted by some manic witch with a chip on her shoulder over muggles. I’m here at your invitation. Is this how you treat guests?” Paige sat, legs crossed, and affected her most superior expression.

“You are not a guest here, Matthews, so stop behaving like a belligerent child.” Minerva McGonagall slammed a hand down on the surface of her desk, sending scrolls to the floor and toppling a quill from its rest in a pot of ink. Paige jumped, straightening from her admittedly rebellious slouch. “You are a student apprenticed to Professor LeStrange and you will treat her with the utmost deference as is due her position in this institution. Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Paige murmured and shrank as it appeared McGonagall’s eyes might actually burst into flames. “I mean, yes, Headmistress.” McGonagall eased back into her chair and turned her attention on Bellatrix who paced agitatedly behind Paige’s chair. The hair on the back of Paige’s neck hadn’t ceased standing on end since the woman had stormed into the office growling about how she intended to finish what Paige had unwisely wrought.

“For Merlin’s sake, Bellatrix, sit down.” McGonagall sighed. Bellatrix whipped around pinning the Headmistress in a wild gaze that quickly tempered at some unspoken warning that passed between the two women. Grudgingly, Bellatrix sat. Paige fidgeted in her seat, wishing there was a bit more room between them as she felt Bellatrix’s gaze boring heatedly into the side of her face. “I won’t stand for another display like that in front of the students.”

“Of course, Headmistress.” Bellatrix’s mouth parroted with the same mechanical stiffness as a ventriloquist’s dummy. Paige barely restrained a snort at the image of some poor soul with his hand up Bellatrix’s … “How Dare You!” Bellatrix shrieked, again on her feet. Paige held up her hands, glancing alarmedly between McGonagall and LeStrange.

“All due respect, she should be on meds.” Paige pointed at Bellatrix who loomed and seethed and apparently foamed at the mouth. “Seriously, mental health intervention is key with her whole situation and not something to be taken lightly.”

“Matthews, you will refrain from your colorful observations in future.” Minerva McGonagall, glanced at Bellatrix pointedly, “And Professor LeStrange, you might find yourself feeling far less antagonized if you refrained from employing legilimency until you’ve had a chance to instruct your pupil in the skill of shielding one’s mind.” Minerva cleared her throat turned her focus to the cluttered contents of her desk, shuffling scrolls. It was as effective a wordless, Get the hell out, as Paige had ever received. 

She rose, carefully out of Bellatrix’s reach, and showed herself the door which slammed unceremoniously behind her. Paige could just make out the murmuring sounds of the conference continued in her absence. She figured she was probably expected to wait obediently until her new, Paige rolled her eyes, master emerged. Master, indeed! Apprenticeship or not, Paige was pretty clear on who the actual sub was in this relationship. She snickered imagining Bellatrix in a ball gag and leather … She immediately stopped imagining as her face and other extremities heated.

“Hey are you that new witch?” A kid with eyes surely not intended for his particularly small head, was slinking not unobtrusively along the opposite side of the corridor. He didn’t seem readily familiar from the class Paige had interrupted. He was much smaller than those students, maybe two years younger, Paige guessed.

“What new witch?” Paige asked, watching as he crept furtively closer, looking up and down the empty corridor as though he was on some secret mission.

“The one what knocked Professor LeStrange on her arse.” He grinned with wicked amusement. Apparently that confrontation had been a long time coming from the utter glee that shown in the child’s eyes. He looked as though he might break out into interpretive dance at any moment. Paige imagined there were lots of feelings among the student body when it came to a Professor of LeStrange’s caliber, none of them particularly friendly.

“Guilty.” Paige smirked, shrugging.

“No one has ever dueled Professor LeStrange and lived to tell the tale.” The kid regarded Paige with respect and a hint of pity. “You probably won’t live much longer to enjoy your victory. But it’s one hell of a story!” Paige frowned.

“Crowley, you’re late. Ten points from Ravenclaw. Get to class!” Paige jumped, at the shout from just behind her. She looked back over her shoulder and directly into the eyes of LeStrange. Paige hadn’t heard her exit the office door before which they now stood practically snuggled save the embrace. Bellatrix close enough that Paige caught a fair hint of what the woman had eaten for breakfast, turned fathomless eyes to unblinking regard. Paige involuntarily took a step away, stumbling, barely catching herself and straightening with all the grace she could muster. The kid, Crowley, was dust by the time Paige managed to look away. 

“So, uh …” Paige hedged figuring she’d get a quick apology out of the way and begin her attempts in earnest to salvage this disaster of a first day.

“Don’t speak.” Bellatrix whispered easing back into Paige’s personal space. She was a diminutive woman but she certainly had presence. Paige all but gulped, forcing herself to meet the Professor eye to eye. “Don’t ever speak, unless I instruct you otherwise.” Paige sucked in her cheeks as if to demonstrate that she could in fact keep quiet, and nodded. “Crowley’s right by the way.” Bellatrix stepped around Paige and headed down the corridor. Paige followed mutely. “You very well might not live beyond the day.” 

 

“Hey, how was your first day?” Paige had barely stumbled in through the front door when the cheery greeting reached her ears. She trudged from the foyer into the living room and collapsed, face down on a sofa.

“I think you Brits would refer to it as shite.” Paige’s muffled answer drew some amused laughter.

“I hear you made quite an entrance.” Paige turned over onto her back, regarding Hermione Granger ensconced in an armchair, feet propped on an ottoman with a book turned over in her lap. Her brown skin virtually glowed in the light from the gas fireplace. Hermione’s modern apartment in the heart of muggle London’s trendiest up and coming neighborhood was a refreshing surprise. From what Paige had seen, much of wizarding society lived in either creepy, ancient ancestral homes or rural cottages. The idea of spending six months in either had been entirely unappealing. Willow had offered a place at the council headquarters but Hermione had instructed Paige to decline. It would be improper, she’d insisted. Paige had yet to be further informed of why relations between Wizarding Society and the Council were so strained. Subject for another day, she supposed.

“I was simply asking for directions. She started it.” Paige ground out.

“Yes and it looks like she finished it.” Hermione noted Paige’s bedraggled appearance. 

“I spent all day learning to cast and defend the same two charms with her wand.” Paige rolled her wrists, to an answering crack in response. “A wand!” Paige shook her head throwing up her hands in disbelief. “I believe I clearly demonstrated that the last thing I need is a wand to get my point across.”

“You’d be wise not to do anything that would further incite a temper that is known and feared throughout the wizarding world.” Hermione paused looking down at her lap a moment. “Trust me, you aren’t going to win her respect by challenging her authority. So focus on what I brought you here to do. Cause we both need you to succeed.”

“I know H, you’ve been over this. It’s important and I don’t intend to let you down.” Paige took a deep breath. “So uh, Professor LeStrange gave me this ridiculous list of things I’m supposed to have by tomorrow. And I don’t even know where to begin.” Paige wiggled on the couch until she managed to extract a small scroll from her back pocket. She tossed it into Hermione’s lap without easing much out of her exhausted sprawl. Hermione unrolled it and graced Paige with a smile that seemed undisputably wistful.

“This is easily accomplished.” Hermione stood, grabbing the small container of floo powder she kept on the mantlepiece. “A couple of hours in wizarding London and we’ll have you fully equipped.”

“Can we grab a bite to eat while we’re there?” Paige struggled to her feet, stifling a moan of dissent at having to abandon the comfort of the sofa. “And for goodness sake a beer, or five?”

“Smashing idea.” Hermione tossed the powder and Paige made an impressed noise as the fireplace expanded to the size of a doorway. The flames jumped, glowing in ghostly relief. Paige stared entranced until Hermione grabbed her hand, waking her as though from a dream. With a tug, Hermione pulled her into the fireplace and they, for lack of a better term, sizzled away.

 

Black Hearts and Broomsticks  
Still Six Months Prior

 

“This Butterbear has an, uh, interesting taste.” Paige grimaced, swallowing indelicately. 

“It does though, doesn’t it.” Hermione chuckled. Her eyes ran over the collection of packages piled from floor to table, the bounty of their impromptu quest to Diagon Alley. “You know when I turned eleven and I received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts out of the blue, it was a shock but it also felt like a confirmation. You know finally after years of feeling out of place of feeling so different from the other kids, I had a reason why and a new purpose.” Hermione’s smile was wistful, had been throughout their trek as she helped Paige choose academic robes, textbooks, and a wand, among other items essential to her apprenticeship. “Then I got to Hogwarts and …” Hermione shook her head. “There was no gold over the rainbow, Paige.”

“What was there?” Paige asked, examining Hermione’s face as she spoke about a past that was recent enough yet to pull downward at the corners of full lips. The memory of pain was sometimes no less startling than the infliction of it. Paige knew that lesson well from experience. Hermione, only a few years older, nonetheless carried herself with a wisdom that bespoke the unfathomable. And the scar, Paige recalled with a shiver that chilled her insides. It was plain to see it had been a cursed wound. Hermione would carry it the rest of her life and Paige wondered, no she knew it would contribute to the persistent ache of undesirable memories.

“There was war and a line drawn between me and so-called allies who but for one unconscionable dissociation could have been friends.” Hermione gazed at Paige meaningfully. “You're young, talented, and uniquely capable to advocate for a community that has suffered far too long without notice or concern. You say you went into social work to save lives. Well, here's your chance. Do all in your power to take its full advantage.”

“You already have my word Hermione.” Paige sipped at her beer, feeling her face heat under Hermione’s regard. It was a lot of expectation from a woman she’d only just met. “I intend to work hard. I didn’t come here to waste anyone’s time, least of all mine.” Paige shook her head emphatically, “That whole scene today with Professor LeStrange never would have been my choice of first impression. I shouldn’t have risen to the bait it’s just I couldn’t let her get away with that anti-muggle bullshit. I don’t understand how a school can employ a woman who freely spews hatred in her classroom.” Paige looked up from her beer when Hermione didn’t reply immediately. The young woman’s mouth was drawn in a tight line and she worried at the cuff of her right shirt sleeve with the anxious fingers of her left hand. Paige knew that Hermione’s scar lay hidden under that sleeve. She hadn’t seen Hermione in sleeves shorter than wrist length, even within the safe confines of her own home as she readied for bed.

"I know the road you tread attempting this apprenticeship under these conditions. It is heart-rending and difficult, and ceaseless, and thankless; but it is imperative. So few of us are capable of implementing this craft as a tool to impart social change.” Hermione took a breath, and intoned, “Those who can, must take responsibility.” She regarded Paige soberly. “There is no higher calling than meeting the challenge of innate talent with honed skill. It is our duty to answer it when it sounds." 

“I just wrote a paper, H. How does that become a higher calling?” Paige sighed deeply. She’d pursued her Social Work degree with intentions of saving lives not through magical intervention but by helping kids find safe, secure families. 

“Most muggle-born witches and wizards don’t get letters from Hogwarts or some other institution of magical education.” Hermione spoke softly. “Even though you were born into a magical family, your circumstances with your adoptive family were such that they probably could have been much improved had you received a letter explaining who you are.”

“When I was three, I was afraid of the dark. I’d wake up in the middle of the night wanting so badly for the darkness to recede that my hands would glow and fill the entire bedroom with light.” Paige spoke up, feeling the confession escape unbidden. She’d never shared this with anyone, not even her sisters. “As I got older, I realized anything that I wished for hard enough, I could make happen. I could summon things and sometimes even go away to far off places.” Paige grinned, “My first day of Kindergarten I hated being there because I was new. All the other kids knew each other from Preschool and playdates. But my parents had just moved so new neighborhood, new school. I was a foreign element being introduced into their otherwise familiar world and they hated me for it. It was awful and I remember wishing I was home.” Hermione tilted her head anticipating what was coming but listened with interest.

“The next instant there I was in the kitchen at the new house. I made myself a snack and played in my room for hours until there were my parents distraught because they’d received a call I was missing.” Paige shook her head mistified at her own retelling. It seemed so unreal even now, eighteen years later. “The teachers had scoured the school and I was just gone, they said. When my parents found me, it was assumed I’d walked home even though we lived miles away.” 

“Being able to do those things was a special secret for you.” Hermione ventured, and Paige nodded confirming the guess as her long untold truth. Growing up she didn’t talk about it with her parents because it made her feel all the more separate from them, like she didn’t belong to them. She hated that feeling. It diminished the good feeling that filled her when her parents would say they had chosen her, chosen to love her as their own. 

“That secret was a lot to carry, and it was heavy like sadness.” Paige shared, remembering. “I couldn’t explain to my parents why I felt so heavy. I was five, I didn’t have the capacity. So they put me in therapy and when I confessed to the doctor that I was sad because I was different, I was put on medication.” Paige blinked, feeling tears pooling in her eyes. “The medication made it difficult to do things like summon and orb. Even though I didn’t want to represent the foreign element other kids hated, I learned that the greater sadness was being incapable of utilizing all that made me different, like my hands lighting my room at night.” Paige remembered the parade of doctors and therapists, the endless medications that had made the next six years a slow delirious torture. 

“If I had gotten a letter, no I wouldn’t have been saved from those years of feeling alone and numb to the world around me. But maybe …” Paige shook her head shrugging. “It would have made some difference positive or otherwise to know that I wasn’t disturbed and I didn’t have to be sad.” Paige mused at the complexity of it all. “My life changed anyway a year later when my parents died and even in that tragedy every question I’d ever had was answered.”

“You won’t believe me when I say it, but you were quite privileged to receive so thorough an education outside of wizarding society.” Hermione gestured around them, noting the other wizards and witches in the pub. “For most muggle-born wizards and witches who do not benefit from what amounts to credentialing governed by the Department of Magical Education, their entire lives are much like your life was before your parents’ deaths.” Hermione regarded Paige intently. “They know they are different but have no explanation or understanding of why. They spend their lives tortured by the traumatic incomprehensibility that they feel at odds with the world around them. There is a constant turmoil in concluding with great conviction that beyond their sight exists something, yet never being able to confirm it, never being able to see the truth beyond one’s relatively underdeveloped vision or primitive touch.” Hermione pointed at Paige. “Imagine, a lifetime of medication to dull the senses as the lesser of several damaging and horrendous outcomes. The suicide rate is staggering among muggle-born wizards and witches forced to live their lives outside of wizarding society never knowing it or magic even exists.”

“And for those of us who take the exams and become officially sanctioned wizards and witches?” Paige looked expectantly at Hermione though they both knew it to be a rhetorical question. “What is there to look forward to being muggle-born in a society that abhors the very suggestion of a witch without a pedigree?”

“That is why this work through the Muggle-Born Department of Social Services is of such immeasurable importance.” Hermione paused, trying to temper her own excitement in favor of patient words, words that could move Paige, that could inspire the sharing in a vision of someday that Hermione had long dreamt. “Do you know I attended university in the states?”

“No, actually, I didn’t know that.” Paige’s shock could easily be read on her face.

“I attended a small school in Upstate New York with a very reputable graduate program. Hermione leaned back, pausing a moment before adding, “And the greater majority of my classmates were muggle-born.” Paige hummed, thoughts usurped by what ifs. What if she had attended a Magical University? How would her life be different? “I obtained my degree in Magical Law and determined to change our world. I’d experienced first hand a corner of magical society where muggle-born wizards and witches could live freely without fear of reprisal, hatred, discrimination. We could lead lives for which the boundaries and challenges were determined only by our own ambitions. Just imagine it.”

“I don’t have to imagine it, H. I already had that back home in San Francisco.” Paige countered.

“But consider all of those out there who do not have that anywhere. So easily your life could have been different, Paige.” Hermione, sage as ever, watched as Paige awoke to the reality that privilege such as she’d seen the benefit, in spite of so many tragic complications, wasn’t a universal experience. “We owe a debt, Paige, by virtue of our own relative good fortune. Privilege is its own responsibility. Hell, call it obligation. I knew when I left University, came back to the UK, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t have a calling in place of what you refer to as pedigree.”

“And you started the DSS?” Paige asked.

“Not by myself, and not right way.” Hermione shook her head remembering the tumultuous path she’d been on before her present position. “The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was a friend from the war. He offered me a post at the ministry as the Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic. In that position, I could simultaneously occupy the position of Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission. The MBRC is responsible for every piece of legislation on the books which codifies, dictates and enforces the lawful exclusion of muggle-born wizards and witches from all aspects of wizarding society beginning with credentialing by the Department of Magical Education.” Hermione let that sink in before explaining, “That means that discrimination against muggle-born wizards and witches is not just insidious, it’s systematic.”

“Why didn’t you accept the position?” Paige looked at Hermione askance. “I mean clearly if you want to change the rules the easiest way to do that would be in the one position that makes the rules.”

“That’s just it Paige, working directly in the Ministry is the one way I wouldn’t be able to defy the convention of blood purism in wizarding society.” Hermione argued. “Roughly only three percent of Ministry employees are muggle-born and none of them are members of decision-making bodies. Without a favorable majority, nothing can change from within the Ministry.” Hermione said simply and it was in fact a simple truth, for how many pure-blood witches and wizards with decision-making autonomy, acted in the interest of increasing opportunity or liberty for their muggle-born counterparts? The answer was very few. Hermione knew this because when she began recruiting for the DSS, she poached every single sympathetic pure-blood from the Ministry of Magic’s ranks without exception.

With the help of a handful of visionary colleagues, Hermione had created the Muggle-Born Department of Social Services as an adjunct to the Ministry, accepted if not theoretically supported by the state but with no regulatory oversight by the state. The DSS employed barristers, caseworkers, educators, advocates and lobbyists whose efforts were meant to advance the position of Muggle-Born Wizards and Witches. One of their first successful campaigns at their inception had lobbied for specialized training for the Department of Aurors and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The training was intended to increase awareness and accountability to the specific circumstances faced by a Muggle-Born witch or wizard endangered by what are defined as acts of hate and threats of violence. Run by a board of governors, of which Hermione was a sitting member, the DSS had done more to further the cause of muggle-born wizards and witches in its three short years than Hermione had witnessed since being made aware of wizarding society at age eleven. 

Nearly twenty-seven years old, Hermione hadn’t thought when she finished University at age twenty-two that she could effect change through any means short of radical revolution. Now here she was, spending most of her days sitting on a board at the DSS, handling cases at the Wizengamot, or preferably lobbying at the Folcrihtagemot, the legislative branch of the Ministry housed at Stonehenge. 

“The job I’ll be doing, working cases, essentially bringing muggle-born wizards and witches in out of the cold,” Paige gazed at Hermione and asked the one question that still made so little sense. “Why me?” Hermione gave her a look that to Paige had suspicious proximity to, Are you stupid?

“Well, can you imagine something you’d be better suited for, given that you are a licensed social worker and a trained witch?”

“I suppose not.” Paige conceded though not entirely convinced. “And you, was it because of …” Paige’s eyes focused for a moment on Hermione’s carefully covered wrist. Hermione hadn’t illuminated much beyond it being a wound she’d received in the war. Paige new better than to dig.

“I was seventeen fighting a war, surrounded by hatred and death.” Hermione, subconsciously rubbed at her wrist. “Yes, I suppose nothing could have served as a more effective convincer than this to make sure nothing of its like could happen to anyone ever again.” Hermione took a moment as though forcibly extracting herself from the memory into which she’d been thrust at even such casual mention. “I’m a barrister, Paige.” Hermione took a sip of her beer. Her throat had grown somewhat dry as they spoke, neglecting their drinks. “I want to participate in the drafting and enacting of legislation that will change all of our lives. But I serve our community at a distance that must be breached if change is intended to make any difference.”

“And what I do, changing lives one at a time …” Paige began to which Hermione nodded indicating that yes, this was in fact the relevant premise. 

“Go ye, into the breach,” Hermione remarked, “For you could not be better equipped.” She rose from her seat, and began gathering Paige’s packages. Paige jumped, hurrying to assist. Between them they just managed and Hermione smiled, saying softly, “There’s something I think you need to see.” 

 

There is a park in the heart of London near adjacent to the block of warehouses that serve as home to the DSS and an easy stroll from Hermione’s flat. It’s a small park on a hill, hidden from sight by hedges. Inside there are manicured lawns and stone steps bracketing a terraced fountain. It is peaceful and quiet, even with the noise of London traffic, there is no intrusion of blaring metropolitan sound. Paige recognized a charm at work upon it as Hermione lead, their progress pointed towards a cylindrical sculpture in black slate at the park’s pinnacle. As they drew closer, Paige determined it to be a spiraling wall with words etched into the surface.

“This is a memorial.” Hermione explains as they halt before the reflective surface, where now Paige can discern the stone to be covered in names. “It was first proposed to honor the lives of muggle-born wizards and witches who lost their lives in the second wizarding war.” Hermione reached out, her fingers brushing across a name. Immediately a projection sprung from the surface of the wall so that before them stood the apparition of a young witch. She posed in academic regalia, gracing them with her beaming countenance. “But we realized that the lives of so many had been lost prior to that war. The lives of still more continued to be lost after it.” A scrolling bio accompanied the projection. Paige read the paragraphs while Hermione waited in silence.

“She was so young.” Paige whispers.

“Yes.” Hermione’s voice was notably hoarse and Paige startled at the observation of tears sliding down the other woman’s face. Reaching out, tentative at first, she slid her hand into Hermione’s and received in turn a tender squeeze of thanks. “Maame Yaa Konney was in my year at Hogwarts. Her brother Menkah was a year ahead of us. They were sorted to Slytherin House.” Paige raises disbelieving eyebrows. She’s had the chance to read Hermione’s dog-eared copy of Hogwarts a History. Salazaar Slytherin was a proudly outspoken blood purist. “No one knew.” Hermione clarified. “A professor at the time, Headmistress McGonagall fabricated records to protect the truth of their birth. They were born in Ghana to muggles, but immigrated when they were toddlers to live with their great aunt by marriage, a pure blood witch and well-respected member of wizarding society here in the UK.” Hermione sniffed, and cleared her throat, continuing her story only slightly steadier. “When they received their letters to Hogwarts, their aunt asked McGonagall to disguise their blood status. It was a tumultuous time and rightly she feared for their safety.” Hermione shook her head, “I’ve never held much deference for the divination arts, but she knew what was coming with certainty and would not let them attend Hogwarts unprepared.”

“Weren’t muggle-born wizards and witches registered. Especially during the war, how could they possibly keep that secret as members of Slytherin House?” Paige asked.

“Not all members of Slytherin were staunch blood purists or Deatheaters in the making.” Hermione, gestured at Maame Yaa’s smiling face. “She and Menkah were smart as their aunt taught them to be. Where her protection didn’t extend, their cunning kept them safe. They graduated, just before the end of the war and smartly they chose to leave the UK to avoid the mounting violence. As a result, I didn’t meet them until after the war. I didn’t have much opportunity to socialize with Slytherins at Hogwarts.” Hermione paused, thinking back to those days with no lack of consternation. “I saw her the first day in my Torts class. She recognized me and insisted we be study partners.” Hermione laughs. “I made her work for it. I was still holding on to my adolescent prejudice and she didn’t disavow me of it for some time. In fact, it was her brother that set me straight.”

“What did he say?” Paige felt a sympathetic grin sprout at Hermione’s somewhat embarrassed if amused expression.

“He was in school with us but in the medical program. Sometimes if Maame Yaa and I were bogged down in the library, he would stop by and bring snacks to keep us going.” Hermione recounted unable to speak with anything but fondness. “One day he arrives to catch the tail end of an argument about case law. I’d made some asinine comment about her privileged background prejudicing her argument.” Hermione sighed, remembering the moment with such clarity. Maame Yaa had chosen silence rather than rising to Hermione’s bait. But her brother,, overhearing Hermione’s cutting assertion hadn’t been able to let the offense pass unremarked. “He called me a twit and informed me in fairly colorful language that their blood was just as muddy as mine. The only apparent difference was that their experience had imparted the lesson that we should be far less judgemental on the basis of such ridiculous criteria as blood status whereas I clearly hadn’t adapted the same lesson.”

“Ouch.” Paige murmured to which Hermione nodded meaningfully.

“It was a well-deserved dressing down.” Hermione assured. “I was mortified and apologized profusely. But Maame Yaa was so …” Hermione shook her head searching for the word. “Benevolent, and poised and forgiving. She told me that her dream for change, for a better life, wasn’t inspired by anger and animosity. She said it wouldn’t really be change if it was.”

“That’s why she came back here?” Paige nodded at the bio which contained the date and location of Maame Yaa Konney’s death.

“Things were better in the US, surely. Menkah wouldn’t be convinced otherwise and stayed. He’d met a nice girl and wanted one day to raise a family some place where he didn’t fear for his children’s lives.” Hermione nodded thoughtfully, implying she understood the inclination and didn’t fault him for it. “But Maame Yaa and I had a vision. We returned home to organize a campaign of direct action. We wrote letters and op-ed pieces to all the papers, sat in on legislation sessions at the Folcrihtagemot to lobby for new legislation, and began doing outreach to other muggle-born witches and wizards.”

“You started a grassroots movement.” Paige whistled, impressed. The Hermione Paige had met on the streets of San Francisco, the woman who’d offered Paige the hospitality of a guest room in a cozy London flat, was by every prior observation a bureaucrat not a radical. This was a revelation.

“We did.” Hermione nodded, suddenly towering in Paige’s estimation. “One night, Maa and I were having a late drink at Rosmerta’s pub in Hogsmeade” Hermione began, her voice holding in it the foreshadowing of the story’s inevitable unpleasantness. “By that time, our efforts had gained some momentum and definitely a great deal of visibility. There was a lot of unfavorable sentiment in response from pure blood communities, and there were threats.” Hermione gestured, a helplessness in what she wanted to convey. “We were driven and we weren’t going to stop. We couldn’t.”

“What happened?” Paige pressed, knowing the often mortal price of challenging the status quo.

“A group of pure blood wizards, five of them maybe and deep in their cups, recognized us. They came over to our table called us all of the names we’d heard before and made all of the threats we’d learned over time to ignore. We just left, thinking nothing of it, thinking this is why we stand up, why we persist. We took it as an object lesson and resolved to work harder.” Hermione could not hold back a sudden dry sob. She pursed her lips, pressing her fist against them as though she could swallow her own sorrow back down, deep into the recessed pit where all such torments dwell. “Maa never got the chance. They followed us out. Surrounded us. Maa was a brilliant duelist; but five against two, we couldn’t hold them back.”

“I’m so sorry, H.” Paige grasped Hermione’s hand in both of hers, watching as tears returned.

“I woke up in St. Mungo’s Hospital two weeks later and learned that Maame Yaa hadn’t survived her injuries.” Hermione whispered, her posture stiffening as she revealed. “There was no investigation, no one held accountable. She was gone and I was expected to just accept that.” Hermione’s eyes flashed with anger, “That’s when Kingsley arrived and offered me Senior Undersecretary at the Ministry. He said I needed to find a way to get my message across without resorting to violence as though it had been our fault. That we had somehow incited this travesty against justice by refusing to be silent.” Hermione grit her teeth, her breathing erratic for moments as she continued. “He said maybe someday, I could see the effect wrought by the change I might achieve with sufficient influence rather than be buried along with my ill-conceived movement and any number of muggle-born wizards and witches naive enough to subscribe to it.”

“You had to refuse.” Paige stated matter of factly. “To accept would have been to dismantle every dream you and Maame Yaa had for change.”

“Yes.” Hermione breathed out, closing her eyes as though relieved that Paige did comprehend. It had been an unpopular choice back then. She sought calm again and when she opened her eyes, Hermione looked on Paige with carefully erected control. “ You know my Grandfather was from the same town in Ghana as the Konney’s. For Maame Yaa and I, that made us family. That means I have an obligation to her memory.” Hermione directed her attention back to the memorial, to the ghostly representation, the only legacy of her dear friend. “I cannot give up. I will not give in.”

 

Paige fiddled, attention implacably secure upon her phone. She’d been coding an app for the better part of a week and every spare moment was now dedicated to testing it. It was for this reason alone she did not lend any notice to the arrival of her so-called master, as she breezed into the dueling chamber. However, she did of course notice with no small amount of discomfort as Professor LeStrange made great use of her lack of attention. 

Paige’s phone slid from her fingers as bodily she was lifted from her seat on one of the benches lining the wall of the chamber. It was all she could do not to to struggle and kick as pressure constricted around her throat and she dangled, impotently like human decoration far too near the grand vaulted ceiling. Bellatrix cleared her throat dramatically as she set a casual pace towards the center of the room above which Paige hovered, sputtering.

“I can’t imagine what you might find so absolutely all-consuming on that ridiculous piece of muggle refuse.” Bellatrix sighed and twirled her wand idly. She tossed her dark curls as she peered upwards in ill-concealed contempt. “Your magic is clumsy, unrefined. Surely you know this, how could you not. After all there is the matter of your low birth.” Bellatrix rose gently into the air, until she too hovered, facing Paige at armslength. Paige struggled to draw breath, though she glared unrepentant into Bellatrix’s smug countenance. “Have I your undivided attention now, pet? Oh …” Bellatrix smiled in answer to Paige’s teeth bared. “Something you’d like to say?” Paige dropped unceremoniously. She had the good sense to curl and roll, absorbing some of the impact against the hardwood floor. Nonetheless, it was a moment before she stumbled to her feet, gasping for breath. 

“As I recall, my clumsy, unrefined magic left you on your ass last we did this …” Rasping, her abused throat could just manage a whisper. Paige added in mock capitulation, “Professor LeStrange.” Bellatrix continued to float, chuckling as she twirled through space then rocketed as though shot to hover inches from Paige’s face. 

“One duel hardly decides your capability to adequately defend against a true witch or wizard.” Bellatrix sneered, spittle bubbling at the corner of lips disturbingly crimson. 

“Show me one and I’ll adequately set them on their ass too.” Paige retorted with a smirk.

“You filthy creature. Were it up to me, your kind would never grace these hallowed halls. It is beneath me, this farce; teaching a beast to hold a wand.” Bellatrix raged, breath hot on Paige’s face. It was a test, Paige knew then, to reconcile the wanton spewing of hate to the opportunity she’d not soon forsake by giving into the anger boiling up from her belly into her chest. She glared back into Bellatrix’s manic gaze, bathed in the woman’s fetid breath. 

“I shall make use of you as a means of exposing your character and as a means of bringing this guilty nation with yourself to repentance. In doing this I entertain no malice towards you personally. There is no roof under which you would be more safe than mine, and there is nothing in my house which you might need for your comfort, which I would not readily grant. Indeed, I should esteem it a privilege, to set you an example as to how mankind ought to treat each other.” The calm of Paige’s voice did not belie its strength, for it filled the chamber, echoing and succinct. “Frederick Douglass.” Paige breathed deep, feeling her own animosity recede. “A muggle of great repute, wrote that to a man who, like you, considered him little more than a beast.” Paige regarded Bellatrix evenly. Her refusal to be cowed by hate, harbored within her heart or anyone else’s, the only act of defiance she would take this day.

"I fought on the other side. In the final battle, I was struck down by that weasel-breeder.” Bellatrix settled onto her feet and tip-toed a close perimeter around Paige’s perfectly still form. Bellatrix hissed, her words tickling at Paige’s ears like a pit of venomous serpents. “She thought she’d killed me, the feeble cow, but she hadn’t the knack for a well-executed unforgivable.” Bellatrix cackled, clapping merrily. “I was, however, dematerialized.” She shrugged as though it were a mere inconvenience. “When it was discovered by our dear Headmistress that I yet lived, though in a far more translucent state, rather than condemn me, it was decided I’d be physically reconstituted. Those idiots at the Ministry did their best, I suppose.” Bellatrix gestured idly showing off a gaudy silver ring, “This hideous trinket I am forced to wear, gives me substance that I may live out the rest of my life in service training vapid children how to fondle their wands.” Bellatrix drew to a stop, once again face to face, nearly chest to chest. She bore a cheshire grin of unspoilt secrets and mayhem. Page swallowed, willing herself not to step back, not to give. “But that’s not what you really want to hear is it, pet?” Bellatrix hummed, shaking her head, eyes wide, feigning wonder that was well beyond her severely limited emotional capacity. “No pet,” She murmured drawing close enough that her lips threatened to tickle Paige’s ear. “You want to know if I am contrite, if I have regrets of my many horrendous trespasses; for they are many and unspeakably horrendous.” Bellatrix licked her lips, giggling softly. She tried once, twice, three times to catch her breath and continue. She snickered as though sharing the punchline of a dirty joke, “I’ll tell you this.” Bellatrix placed a hard hand on Paige’s shoulder, digging her nails to anchor herself and Paige in the moment. Grimacing, Paige leaned away, couldn’t help but hear. “I can feel it, like a lovely buzz warm on my skin, tickling my ...” Giddy, Bellatrix whispered, confessing her favorite sin, “Every time she touches it.” Bellatrix breathed, and Paige winced at the sultry heat against her neck. “So good at bringing me off, she is, with those fingers on my tender parting gift. My mark, loathingly bestowed so she’ll never forget the filth from whence she crawled." 

Bellatrix drew, at last, away, just enough to watch Paige’s carefully constructed calm give way first to comprehension, then furor. She bit her lip and smiled in an sickeningly accurate approximation of innocence. Paige shoved, throwing herself as far as she could manage. She felt heavy, like she was trudging through thick, unrelenting muck. Tenacious, it held on, crawling over her skin, forcing its way steadily towards total consumption. A black tar of the senses, it obscured her thoughts, froze her heart in resin. Paige could muster no energy against it and knew, this was the true, unrestrained might of Bellatrix LeStrange, the greatest witch of her age.

“Do you wish to duel me now, pet?” Bellatrix asked. She watched smirking as Paige crumbled, knees striking the floor of the chamber. Paige swayed, fell limply, an audible crack resounding as her chin struck hardwood. “No, I guess not.” Bellatrix sighed her obvious boredom, casting a final glance of disinterest at Paige’s prone form as she traipsed, virtually skipped, and made her way out of the chamber.

 

Unsolicited Advisor  
Three Months Prior

“Stop it. I’m fine.” Alex ran her hands along the front of her dress, smoothing fully imagined wrinkles. It was too sheer and form fitting, in the most mouth-watering gauzy shade of white, to abide wrinkles. Kara murmured nonsense, blinking absently and forced her gaze away to consider the milling crowd around them.

“You certainly didn’t sound fine earlier.” Kara pointed out.

“Probably something I ate.” Alex demurred, slipping her hand into Kara’s elbow. She offered a pained if affectionate smile.

“At dinner?” Kara spared Alex a glance that curtly retorted, try again. “I ate your salmon and you barely finished half a glass of water.”

“Fine, I’m preoccupied. Could we possibly focus on all of this.” Alex waved her free hand, and blinked away spots as she was caught off-guard by a photographer’s opportunist click, click, flashing. “Why don’t you go mingle and I’ll …”

“Please don’t say you’ll catch up with me later.”Kara all but whined, slumping in the cocktail dress Alex had spent an inordinate amount of time selecting for this specific event. Alex raised a practiced brow, and Kara straightened with a sigh.

“The gallery owner invited you here with very clear intentions, Kara.” Alex withdrew her hand from Kara’s elbow and placed it firmly on the exposed skin of Kara’s back. Involuntarily, Kara shivered at the contact and feared for a moment her knees might actually buckle. “This is how you make a splash. So go jump in, already.” Alex gave a light, but inarguable push, nodding in the direction of what looked like a knot of celebrity and media which Kara had little interest in untangling. With patented reluctance, she forced herself to step away from the warmth and security of Alex’s side.

“Kara sweetie, at last, there you are!” NOman ICi, proudly trendy owner of Eclat, National’s City’s fringiest gallery of fine art, delicately placed the tips of well-manicured fingers against Kara’s shoulder and offered the airiest of kisses. “Wherever have you been, my dear girl? These wonderful friends of mine have been absolutely tortured with desire to meet you.” Kara forced a polite smile, eyes trailing over the collectively open appraisal by several of National City’s leading art critics, entertainment writers, and gossipers from the blogosphere. “How very wicked of you to keep them waiting.”

“Hi.” Kara cleared her throat, tried again. “I mean, Good evening.” Feeling a bit more confident with the added heft in her voice, she leaned into the gallery owner’s introductions.

“Petra, here is with the Current.” Petra offered a faux smiled that left Kara to wonder might something crack had the woman put forth any real effort.

“Kensington, with Milly and Miranda.” 

“Charmed.” Kensington pursed glossy lips, and tittered to Petra whose face remained eerily unchanged.

“Triss, darling, don’t you write a food blog?” Noman ICi rolled emerald green eyes with a flutter of long ebony lashes, and proceeded down the line of introductions. “Fi-Yette, with Upstream Communique, did that lovely Sontag retrospective.”

“Yes, of course.” Kara nodded, exchanging smiles with Fi-Yette, who seemed a fraction less disaffected than his colleagues. “That was an amazing piece. I loved it.”

“Fi-Yette, as in Fi-Yah Queen, recognize.” Fi-Yette raised his champagne flute, and preened, coquettish.

“And …”

“And NOman ICi, darling little get together you’ve managed for … Zifferel is it?” Kara blanched.

“Grant, as I live and breathe. I didn’t imagine you found your way to this part of our fair metropolis.” NOman ICi smirked, eyeing Cat a moment before conceding to a sterile exchange that only distantly mimicked an embrace and kiss to each cheek. “How did you put it, WeWo is where pretentious mediocrity passing itself off as art comes to wither and die.”

“Well when one renames the village of Westwood to WeWo, that’s a foregone conclusion, isn’t it?” Cat Grant countered, holding her wine glass like a scepter. She regarded NOman ICi with calculating assessment and surmised. “Dior?” NOman ICi shrugged as though to say, clearly; and with an equally flaying investigation returned.

“Givenchy?” Cat tilted her head in affirmation and NOman ICi tsked as though somehow the choice sadly fell short. Narrowing her eyes Cat sighed and conveyed utter boredom in her wealth of expression. She turned as though it were no more than an afterthought to regard Kara from under her lashes.

“Branching out I see. So amusing to encounter a former employee who never formally resigned.” Cat took a languid sip of the ruby liquid in her glass, lipstick impeccable as she continued with only idle interest, “According to your little friend, you were suddenly struck down by some nameless ailment for which the prognosis promised severely imperiled life expectancy.” She leaned in as conspiratorially, “If wishes were horses.”

“Ms. Grant,” If any of her well-worked smiles of the evening were forced, this one certainly was. “A pleasure as always.”

“If only I could say the same, Kira.” Cat Grant took another sip, her comportment an oddly perfect mix of grace and derision. Kara drew in a breath, counting to five.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something to say. You always do.” It was easily the snarkiest thing she’d ever managed to fling in Cat Grant’s holier than thou direction, save railing at the woman on the singular occasion wherein Kara still contended she may have blacked out. Cat Grant affected a tight-lipped hum of amusement, though so clearly unamused.

“And me with a multimillion dollar media conglomerate with which to say it.” Cat offered a gestured Ta to NOman ICi and sauntered off leaving Kara to think, perhaps that could have gone better.

“No worries, sweetie, no one will consider anything she might have to say about you the least bit relevant when your glorious show opens in my fabulous and incomparable gallery.” NOman ICi placed a warm hand against Kara’s shoulder, directing her gaze away from Cat’s dramatically choreographed departure. The woman certainly knew how to leave a party, Kara thought grudgingly.

“Was that?” Alex asked, appearing, timely as ever, at Kara’s elbow.

“Unfortunately.” Kara confirmed. “Alex, NOman ICi, owner of Eclat.”

“Alex, gorgeous!” NOman ICi regarded Alex with wide eyes, head thrown back, ecstatic with delight. Alex offered a crooked smile in return and was properly grasped by the shoulder and pecked on surprised lips. Kara had to admit feeling a bit put out at the enthusiasm of NOman ICi’s greeting. Full peck on the lips and all Kara had gotten was a drafty kiss just short of her right ear, honestly. “You are a vision and so certainly our Kara’s muse.”

“You flatter me.” Alex blushed. “This is a lovely opening. The artist, Zifferel, is he here?”

“Alas no,” NOman ICi’s lashes fluttered again, with a delicate shake of head. “We were unable to convince the warden to extend a twenty-four pass so he could attend. But he is absolutely here in spirit.” Alex and Kara side-eyed and NOman ICi continued with little concern. “Now, my lovelies, we must mingle. There is buzz about your upcoming show Kara and we must feed it.” NOman ICi gestured with both hands, fingers collapsing into palms in a hypnotic wave, Kara and Alex were properly enchanted to follow.

 

Kara peered into her bedroom. Alex was an indefinable lump under the blankets. She’d fallen asleep on the cab ride home. Kara had been tempted to carry her up to the loft but was caught in contemplation of the act. Alex had woken alerted by the idling cab and had pinned Kara under a withering look realizing what had nearly transpired. It was a bit early still and Kara had hopes of working a bit before retreating to the warmth of Alex and bed.

Her mobile rang, deterring her steps from her workbench.

“Hey pal!” Kara grinned hearing the voice on the other end.

“Isn’t it like 3 am there.” Kara asked in reply, sliding onto the sofa to get comfortable. “Are you up early? Late?”

“Who knows anymore?” Paige’s voice was tinny for a moment. Kara could hear Paige’s coffee maker burbling in the background and figured she was on speaker. “Feels like days since I’ve seen my bed.”

“More than you bargained for, is it?” Kara asked. In prior conversations, Paige had equated her apprenticeship to a walking tour through Dante’s hell. Having been to the Underworld on occasion, Paige knew which she preferred and it certainly wasn’t the version residing just beyond the doors of Hogwarts School of wizarding and merciless torture.

“I’ll last.” Paige answered simply. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll last.”

“I’d say that’s the spirit but …” Kara wavered. Paige sounded right on the edge of fanatic.

“I have like five minutes while coffee brews for a much needed escape to your happy place.” Paige interrupted before Kara could possibly consider injecting a bit of grounded sense or moderation. “How was the gallery opening?”

“My former boss showed up so … about as painful as a bikini wax but equally liberating to know that she is in fact my former boss.” Paige laughed and Kara grinned at the sound, pretty relieved to hear it given how harried and miserable her friend had been by all accounts these last three months in London. That professor of hers made Cat Grant seem like a bubble bath paired with a bucket of ice cream in comparison. Paige had explained that she was essentially a teaching assistant, ticking off warily, I do all of her marking, sit in on all her classes and take notes on everything she says, then in the afternoon she tests my recall. Apparently testing Paige’s recall meant her professor obliterated her in duel after duel until right around dinner time. 

When Paige wasn’t penning papers on obscure spell work, writing research; she was attending her evening classes back in San Francisco thanks to the strategic efficiency of orbing. On the weekends, Paige squeezed in twenty hours for her internship, and not very much sleep. But to Kara’s amazement, Paige had made it work for three months and was undaunted by the three months awaiting her ahead.

“What is it with women like Cat Grant, honestly!” Paige exclaimed. “It’s as though misery is their favorite pastime.”

“Either misery or Words with Friends, I mean if she has friends …” Kara hummed contemplatively. 

“Oh you’ll never guess!” Paige gasped as though shocked she’d nearly forgot to share breaking news. “I was talking to Ingrid on G-Chat earlier, you know she’s helping me edit my thesis paper and preparing me for its defense. She's been a lifesaver.” Paige took a quick breath and Kara could hear her fumbling with her coffee maker in the background. The sound of liquid meeting a mug, a sip and a sigh of satisfaction followed. “Anyway, apparently Freya is considering moving to San Francisco to go into business with Piper. She wants to expand the Patisserie into an after hours that serves apothecary cocktails.”

“Oh my …” Kara started, thinking Paige was right, she never would have guessed.

“Yes.” Paige interjected. “Phoebe's already trying to convince her to move into the manor, for convenience of course. That is surely going to end in tears,” Paige took another sip of her coffee then added, “and shouting, and broken antique furniture when Prue finds out.”

“Rao.” Kara breathed, recalling Paige’s explosive encounter with Piper those months ago. A heated dispute between Prue and Phoebe would be decidedly less calm. Paige chuckled on the other end of the line.

“I know right.” She hummed, then, “Alright so quickly, I’ve only a minute, pal. How’s Alex?” Kara glanced toward the darkened bedroom, could make out Alex undisturbed in slumber.

“I think she’s got the flu.” Kara confided. “I’ll try to convince her not to go into work tomorrow but she never listens. Inevitably, I’ll have to call Eliza to intervene, which means I’ll be getting morose looks and the silent treatment this weekend.”

“Maybe she’ll rally and you can spend the weekend getting …” Kara coughed, instantly red and interrupted before Paige could invoke whatever lascivious ending she’d intended that sentence to have.

“Bye Paige!”

“Miss you, Pal.” Paige hung up before Kara could return the sentiment. Smiling, Kara heaved herself off the sofa and turned her thoughts to work. NOman ICi had called Alex a vision, a muse; and surely that had been right in many respects. But Kara’s art embodied a beauty by which she’d been enchanted long before she’d ever set eyes on Alex Danvers. She stood at her workbench, letting memory loose, with it, joy and melancholy to guide in precision the erubescent line that sparked from teary eyes.

 

What is flight? Does it begin at the base, the feet, the limbs? What is the source of soaring? Is it powered by a pittance or the deafening roar? Is it fanciful, fleeting? Is it practical, substantiated and quantified by the mechanical? What is its meaning? Kara could bounce along on bubbly currents, giddy, or dice the streaming fabric with meteoric purpose. She could dazzle or in prim stealth subvert notice. What was flight but feeling set to work?

Kara spun and tumbled, in no hurry and content to spend a moment at play. Swiftly ruined.

“You haven’t been by the DEO. You’re a hard woman to track down these days.” Kara twisted in a haphazard corkscrew and threw her arms wide to stop. She regarded J’onn Jonzz warily. He towered in his Martian form but Kara had no fear of stature given all she’d faced. 

“Some might take that as a hint.” She tilted her head, meeting J’onn’s fiery gaze with impatience. “Follow me from my apartment, did you? Nothing more pressing to occupy your time these days?”

“You’ve made a lot of antsy men in suits unnecessarily anxious, Supergirl You are what occupies my time these days.” J’onn hovered closer and Kara retreated maintaining a defensible distance. She let only her mistrust of him leak past her composure.

“Then you should find a hobby.” Kara retorted, adding, “And I would prefer you didn’t call me …”

“Supergirl? It was a name you bore with pride not so long ago.” J’onn countered. “What’s changed?”

“Everything, if you consider perspective change.” Kara shrugged, “And nothing if you consider how long I let myself cling to ignorance, blinded by the deceptive words of friends and allies.”

“Kara, this isn’t you. What you’re doing …”

“You mean saving my people from extinction?” Kara interrupted, fascinated by his willful ignorance. “What would you do with a similar opportunity? Politely decline leadership, sit back and try not to react to every heinous, destructive measure enacted to bury the last remnants of your culture? Why are the lives of my people so cheap to you, to this government rife with corruption?” Kara shook her head disdainfully, “You owe them nothing last son of Mars and yet you come to me convinced that you, that I do.”

“You cannot pretend to be Kara Danvers and General Kara Zor-El. They will not abide your arrogance knowing too well the limits of your strength.”

“Don’t you mean the specifics of my weakness?” Kara sneered, daring J’onn to meet her eye even as he looked away, guilty with the truth of Kara’s accusation. “I know you’d shackle me and hold me in chains as you did my Aunt. You think I don’t remember her torture.” Kara felt her breath quicken at the memory. “I see it every time I close my eyes. I haven’t the slightest doubt of your conviction. I know there is little you wouldn’t do to once again possess Supergirl obedient and tamed.” Kara folded her arms, feeling the wind whip about her, jostling her position relative to J’onn. She drew absently, recklessly nearer. “But I am no longer fit for the DEO’s leash, J’onn J’onzz. Feel free to tell your antsy suited colleagues I quit.”

“It’s in everyone’s best interest for you to return to work, Kara.” J’onn’s voice was a rumble of warning that inspired no trepidation, only nausea in the blind, empty pit of Kara’s gut. 

“Not in my best interest, it isn’t.” She snorted, bemused.

“Come back with me. Set this right, while the opportunity remains for you to do so.” J’onn persisted.

“No.” Kara shook her head, pity, shame in her appraisal of him. “You disgust me. I’ll not soon do anything that requires I look at you, much less act in service to your genocidal mission to eliminate the last of my people.” Kara rolled gracefully, intending to depart but abruptly halted by a massive hand. The whole of her forearm encased, Kara appeared absurdly frail, yet even that a contradiction as muscles rippled in instinct. An inexplicable amount of rage and contempt uncurtained in a blink, Kara grabbed his wrist, breathing manic as she squeezed, holding him then in her crushing grip. 

“I am a General, not a child playing dress up in a superhero costume.” Kara drew close, gaze meaningful as she drastically increased the pressure within her fist. She could feel the thick bones flex and creak, encroaching upon the tensile limit. Her nails bit crescents into flesh, easily breaking the skin. J’onn winced but made no move, a preternatural stillness settling, reticent but for a baleful glare. “I caution you to remember that and behave accordingly when next we meet.” Kara held his gaze for a moment, that he be certain of her meaning. Drawing the silence around her with aplomb, she released him as though casting aside refuse and hovered patient to see the choice he’d make. J’onn J’onzz took her cue, said nothing more. Thus she watched him fly away, the last son of Mars, and knew no fear nor conflict, just the weight of acceptance. They may not yet prove to be enemies, but she’d lost a friend this day.

 

Allies and Imprecations  
Present Day

“Kara?” The desperation in that voice was heartrending. Paige watched silently as Alex Danvers rushed to her sister’s side. Kara had yet to regain consciousness since being shot with the dark lighter’s arrow. She didn’t appear outwardly to have deteriorated, but Paige knew little of Kryptonian anatomy and physiology. Having orbed from the manor to Kara’s apartment in National City with the aid of her sisters and the Beauchamps, she now stood in the center of Kara’s downtown loft. With the constant demand of study these six months, she hadn’t had occasion to take Kara up on the invitation to visit. She wished she was seeing National City now under far more auspicious circumstances. 

She’d deposited Kara as comfortably as possible on the sofa and with little ceremony commenced to strategically dig through Kara’s things. There was no helping it and she hoped her friend would forgive her the intrusion. As hoped, she’d found a cell phone and in it the number of Alex Danvers. That had been a difficult conversation. Paige half-expected an entire contingent of super secret government agents to storm in waving automatic weapons, screaming, “Down!” Instead, not twenty minutes after her call, she was met with this, frantic-eyed Alex checking Kara’s vitals with so many questions on her lips.

“Explain it to me again.” Alex glanced momentarily away from her sister to fasten an intent gaze on Paige. “What did this?”

“A cursed arrow.” Paige pointed at Kara’s shoulder. “I healed her but she just hasn’t woken up. I can’t make sense of it.”

“I would have said the same about witchcraft before Kara came home from her recent stint in New England with ...” Alex breathed, “Stories.”

“To be fair,” Paige interjected ruefully, “Kara calls it Science.”

“I have to get her to the DEO so I can run tests.” Alex rose from her seated position at Kara’s side, hands on her hips.

“That would be ill-advised.” Alex and Paige spun at the unexpected interruption. A blonde woman in a uniform Paige had come to recognize as Kryptonian Military issue, stood just beyond the loft’s open windows. Alex, apparently working on instinct rather than rationale, drew her weapon. It seemed a poor choice from Paige’s perspective why escalate when a Kryptonian shows up unannounced.

“I don’t think I asked for your opinion.” Alex replied leveling her gun.

“Perhaps introductions.” Paige cleared her throat, holding up her hands in what she hoped was a calming gesture. “I’m Paige. This is Alex. And you are …?”

“Commander Lesla-Lar.” The blonde stepped farther into the main living space. Alex tracked her carefully. “I am General Kara’s second. I attempted to contact her an hour ago and received no answer. I was concerned.”

“She was injured.” Paige offered. “In a battle with …” Paige swallowed, feeling bile rise and bit off, “My kin.” Lesla-Lar, disquieted by this news, moved anxiously forward and received two in the chest for her trouble. 

“Alex!” Paige shouted watching in horror. Alex, grim-faced and steady seemed unperturbed.

“I didn’t think I had to say don’t move.” Alex growled. Lesla-Lar stilled, considering Alex for a moment as though weighing the choices between throttling the sister of her commanding officer or remaining, inexplicably where she stood.

“This is a waste of time.” Lesla-Lar pointed out in a tone that to Paige’s ears sounded as though it was a genuine attempt at being helpful. Alex’s expression suggested that she was hearing something entirely different. Lesla-Lar was steady even as her eyes flashed with impatient anger. Her voice carefully modulated, only seemed to further agitate Alex. “I should get the General back to the base where her medical needs may be addressed.”

“We don’t need your help.” Alex waved her gun, towards the windows suggesting Lesla-Lar’s immediate egress.

“Actually …” Paige waved a hand, drawing Alex’s attention. “Maybe we do, especially since Kara’s people are likely more capable at helping her than we are.” Paige shrugged, and looked pointedly at Alex’s gun. “Don’t you think Kara would want to be some place she felt safe and cared for rather than …”

“With me?” Alex’s gun dipped. She looked at Paige as though reacting to being strafed by friendly fire. “You don’t think she feels safe with me?”

“I …” Paige hedged, glancing from Alex to Lesla-Lar, and back again. “I don’t think she feels safe at DEO headquarters anymore and I think you know that.” Alex breathed out a heavy sigh, letting her gun drop fully to her side.

“I can’t just let you take her.” Alex muttered, her eyes locking on Kara’s face.

“You can’t stop me.” Lesla-Lar replied, though she hadn’t budged so much as an inch since Alex’s indelicate warning. Paige watched Alex’s hand twitch, fighting the urge no doubt to point her weapon and empty the clip. “But I’ll allow you to accompany me.” Page and Alex alike met Lesla-Lar’s gaze in unschooled shock.

“You’ll what?” The only better kept secret in the world than Superman’s notorious fort built in arctic ice was the location of the Kryptonian base of operations. Kara hadn’t so much as hinted at the surrounding climate in the months since her tenure in command. It might as well not exist for the lack of intel the DEO had on it. An open invitation to the most clandestine location on the planet, as if Alex would politely decline. She allowed Lesla-Lar to make a case that was wholly unnecessary, wanting ultimately to stay, Let’s go already.

“General Kara would wish it.” Lesla-Lar regarded Kara’s unconscious form, “She has no greater loyalty than that she has to her people …” Lesla-Lar turned knowing eyes on Alex. “And to you.” At this, Alex dumbfounded and by appearances unbothered by her speechlessness allowed the silence that creeped in around them. She knew Kara’s unconditional love, but she hid from the kernel of doubt that resurfaced at times as to Kara’s loyalty. Paige, loathe to kill a moment, cleared her throat.

“Cool.” Eyebrows perked she gazed expectantly at Lesla-Lar. “Where are we headed?”

“I left my craft on the outskirts of the city.” Lesla-Lar stepped purposefully over to the sofa and scooped Kara up in a swift, easy motion. Paige snickered drawing the attention of Alex and Lesla-Lar. She sobered right away.

“I thought it was a joke.” Paige swallowed nervously. One thing Alex had in common with the Kryptonian Commander aside from devotion to Kara apparently was the distinct lack of a sense of humor. “I mean, you can fly.” Paige clarified, extending her hands in a nervous approximation of superhero flight. “What do you need with a craft?”

 

“Welcome to New Krypton.” Lesla-Lar still seemed to manage a bit of the dramatic with her even tone as she piloted the short range space vehicle towards the surface of the moon. 

“How is this possible?” Alex, mouth round in wonder, gazed at the vast habitation dome on steady approach. It was possible to see the verdant proliferation of the surface transformed by life.

“We travel 27.1 of your light years to this planetary system with negligible effort, and this seems impossible to you?” Lesla-Lar smirked, drawing a grin from Paige as she reconsidered her assessment that Kara’s second in command had no sense of humor. “This.” Lesla-Lar nodded as she took the shuttle on a quick circumnavigation of the dome. From their vantage point, it was possible to spy buildings beyond the green space, and pedestrians in their black uniforms weaving along pathways. “Is the result of Myriad Beta. General Kara adapted General Astra’s plan to reverse the destruction of Earth’s ecosystem into a plan to terraform Earth’s moon into a livable colony, a new home for our people.”

“How is this not visible from Earth?” Paige asked, marveling at the sheer size of the dome.

“We have deployed a defensive measure in the habitation dome, what humans would call stealth.” Lesla-Lar explained. “We refer to it as cloaking. New Krypton is impenetrable by human optical scanning technologies.” Paige took a hushed breath as the shuttle appeared to pass directly through the dome.

“Multiphasic shielding.” Paige whispered in awe drawing a quirked brow from Lesla-Lar. Paige returned a nonchalant smirk of her own. “What, human Theoretical Physics suddenly not seeming so primitive?”

“I thought that was a thing from Star Trek.” Alex murmured wryly. Paige blushed, feeling suddenly cramped in the confined space of the shuttle with the eyes of both women regarding her so closely.

“That only makes it slightly … less real.” Paige mumbled drawing a snort from Alex and a confused look from Lesla-Lar. Paige felt more apt to concentrate on their surroundings rather than to belabor the subject further. The Department of Defense, New Krypton Military Command, was a series of interconnected buildings through which Lesla-Lar lead them a speedy chase upon landing. New Krypton offered little that didn’t draw attention and curiosity but there was no time to be swept up by anything but the Commander’s sense of urgency. The medical unit was at first glance no more than a dimly glowing platform hovering at the center of a decidedly small and otherwise empty enclosure. This gained the privacy of a room as it transformed with the wave of a hand along a control panel. Lesla-Lar carefully placed Kara upon the platform which in turn lit significantly and began to hum softly, like the almost imperceptible background buzz of home electrical appliances. With notable immediacy, a holographic heads up display appeared above Kara seeming to run a diagnostic. Paige relieved to observe an easing of Lesla-Lar’s grim expression, deduced there would be little to justify further worry where Kara’s well-being was concerned.

“She’ll be fine.” Lesla-Lar reported, curtly. “I’m implementing a restorative measure.” Alex watched closely over the commander’s shoulder as she toggled several quick commands into the HUD. She could recognize a small handful of the characters that flashed as Lesla-Lar’s hands manipulated the display. If she wasn’t mistaken, this was the Kryptonian equivalent of the DEO’s contrived UV bed. It was admittedly a much more efficient design. Much of the time at DEO headquarters it was best guess when it came to diagnosing Kara’s health. “We should allow the General to rest.” 

“But I …” Alex hesitated, she held Kara’s hand gripped in her own as she always had when Kara, felled at the hands of their enemies, lay in recovery. Alex never wavered. She remained at Kara’s side until those gorgeous blue eyes opened letting Alex know everything would be alright. Paige placed a reassuring hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you stay?” Paige’s smile of understanding unexpectedly warmed Alex’s heart. She could see why Kara liked this woman so keenly. “L.L Cool J and I have to discuss my murderous kin.”

“Cool J?” Lesla-Lar’s brow furrowed in deep confusion. “I am unfamiliar with this …”

“Of course you are.” Paige interrupted and held out her arms. “I’m sure you have like a war room or something around here and equally importantly, where can a girl get a half a dozen donuts and a latte? I’m starving.”

 

“There’s no signal up here.” Alex looked up from fiddling with her cell phone simultaneously startled and relieved. “Technically, it’s not that there isn’t signal, it’s more that it’s …”

“Kara.” Alex whispered, shoving her phone into her back pocket. Kara studiously avoided her gaze.

“So what do you think?” Alex blinked, halted mid-step, her hands hovered indecisive. She wanted desperately to confirm through touch that Kara was okay. Kara sat up, let her legs hang over the edge of the free-floating diagnostic platform. Her hair nearly obscured her face, but Alex could just make out Kara’s mouth drawn in a line that had always spelled worry. It was the same look Kara had worn her first day of school on Earth, and the time she’d accidentally broken the keyboard of Alex’s new laptop while in the midst of playing a video game.

“It’s …” Kara tensed, guarding herself in preparation for the possible disappointment in whichever words Alex chose next. “It’s incredible.” Kara looked up, relief tentative. Alex hopped delicately onto the bed, impressed that it didn’t even dip as it hovered despite the change in inertia due to her added weight. “This is Myriad?”

“No.” Kara shook her head, a cloud passing minutely over her face. “Myriad was intended to repair the damage to Earth’s ecosystems. It would have resulted in a staggering loss of life from which humankind may never have truly recovered.” Alex swallowed, fear settling cooly in her belly. At times she was unpleasantly reminded of the true power of Astra and Non, and their unconventional interpretation of restraint as a demonstrated choice not to wield such power as indiscriminately as they boasted they would. They could have rained destruction on a whim, but had chosen a far more circumspect path forward and none of it bluster so much as strategy. Alex had to wonder why. By all accounts, Non hadn’t demonstrated any particular concern for the continued livelihood of the human race. But Astra … Alex gazed at Kara who had seemed certain that Astra could be convinced of the greater valor in fighting at their side rather than against them. Perhaps Kara had been right and Alex’s judgment had been premature.

“Your commander called it, Myriad Beta.” Alex assessed Kara, seeing before her a leader that had not so clearly shone when Kara had first made her controversial choice. “Since you left the DEO I know I haven’t been …”

“It’s okay.” Kara shrugged it off.

“Is it?” Alex asked, looking at Kara intently. “I mean, it’s a relief to finally know what exactly you’ve been doing. But …”

“But what, Alex?” Kara shook her head. “You’ll tell your bosses. They’ll tell theirs and by committee decide I’m an even greater threat. They’ll claim this moon belongs solely to some body of government on Earth though none of them have ever set foot on the moon’s surface. Then they’ll insist that my people have no right to make a home on it.” Kara slid off the bed, pacing away. She turned with growing agitation and pointed at the floor upon which her feet rested. “But the people of Earth have a right to nothing here. This is territory whose ownership cannot fall under that of a people technologically incapable of reaching or policing it. There is nothing to reinforce such a claim but greed and wanting no one else to benefit least of all a handful of displaced aliens.”

“Kara, I cannot argue with what you’ve chosen.” Alex shook her head. “But what do you expect to happen? Do you think the DEO will just forget your people exist? Do you think you’ll fade into obscurity when no black uniforms are seen flying through skies for any protracted period of time?” Alex closed her eyes, dreading the words to come. “You are at war.”

“No, I’m not.” Kara denied, vehement. “Your people choose to see me as an enemy. That does not consign me to war.”

“My people?!” Alex stood, incensed. “Suddenly not yours after thirteen years?”

“Alex, do not mistake me, but I am not now, nor have I ever been human.” Kara was careful, she knew she tread a fine line. “I cannot forsake my obligation to my people or pretend that I am something I’m not in deference to thirteen years of attempted assimilation.”

“Non saw humans as not just backwards, not just primitive, but as cattle that could be slaughtered, countless lives extinguished without thought.” Alex spoke softly, but Kara could still hear the pain shouting, loud upon her ears. “Is that what you think of me?” Alex placed an arm across her stomach, an unconscious effort to protect, to shield herself from Kara’s answer.

“You’re my …” Kara paused, clarity dawning. She reached out and slid her hand into Alex’s. “Everything.” She drew closer, meeting Alex’s gaze with a promise. “There’s nothing more important than you. Not even,” Kara gestured broadly around them. “All of this.”

“Then you’ll come home?” Alex asked, doubt etched for a moment but erased at Kara’s comically exasperated expression.

“Where else have I been but home, even when I was here.” Kara wrapped her arms around Alex, whispering, “Be confident that nothing of consequence has changed.” Alex wanted nothing more than to believe it but Kara’s very demeanor was a contradiction to the woman she had once been. Kara drew away. “For now, there is a matter of some urgency to which I must attend.”

“Paige mentioned her kin.” Alex guessed and from the determination on Kara’s face knew she had done so with accuracy.

“Yes. They are nothing if not persistent.” Kara shook her head and gestured for Alex to follow. They paced quickly through the surprisingly well-lit corridors. It wasn’t how Alex imagined space. Even DEO headquarters had a dull, ominous feel about its rough-hewn corridors and cavernous ceilings. But here on New Krypton, the corridors were smooth as though they’d be pliant to the touch and supple like flesh. They glowed all along their surface with no visible source to the illumination, no blinding beam from above. The resulting impression as they traversed the intricate passages of the Kryptonian Department of Defense, was that they walked in light, like souls called to the everlasting. “Paige and I placed her kin, as she calls them, in what was effectively an indefinite stasis, like a bot waiting for instruction that would never come.”

“And?” Alex prompted.

“And they escaped and attacked Halliwell manor last night during Paige’s graduation party.” Kara met Alex’s eye. “Hundreds of them. We were lucky.”

“You were shot. How is that lucky?” Alex countered, mystified.

“Lucky we’re not all dead.” Kara stepped into a room Alex recognized must serve as a command center. Lesla-Lar and Paige stood in deliberation before a display.

“That’s the manor currently.” Kara clarified for Alex’s benefit as they drew near enough to peer over shoulders. If anything, the dynamic real-time view of Halliwell Manor seemed to indicate that Kara had been conservative in her estimate. Alex gazed at the figures swarming around the structure like fire ants on a carcass and had the impression of more, far more than a few hundred. 

 

Kara’s personal quarters weren’t as warm and cozy as her well-decorated loft in downtown National City. It was a bit spartan but for the incredible view. Paige regarded the Earth at a distance, a burgeoning city in startling color, rolling green meadows, and a crop approaching first yield under the dome. It was stunning all that the last sons and daughters of Krypton had accomplished in a singular effort toward survival. How could anyone upon seeing all this mistake it for an act of war regardless of who had devised it.

Kara’s quarters were little more than a bed, a table, a few chairs, and that glorious view through the walls constructed of a transparent substance similar to that of the dome. Paige stood at Alex’s side taking the measure of it and finding herself only astounded. Kara had deposited them here while she met with her second in command and their defense council. She’d made no excuses simply insisted that the security of New Krypton could not be compromised by their presence. Alex had certainly intended to argue but Kara had been firm. You well know this isn’t a matter of trust, she’d said. Alex couldn’t deny that Kara had a duty and protocol to fulfill. There would be things to discuss which neither Alex nor Paige could be privy.

So here they were, patiently waiting while Kara’s people, her army met and discussed how to contend with the thousand angels laying siege to Paige’s home. Paige had assured them that the wards would hold indefinitely and her family was safe until a plan could be enacted. Nevertheless, Alex worried for the neighborhood, the hapless humans caught on the battlefield. Paige contended that most humans were incapable of observing magic directly. It was her guess that the neighbors were convinced of some other completely natural force at work. Her money was firmly on the likely conclusion that the neighborhood had been hit with some unseasonable if not historic weather that was keeping them safely in their homes. Alex did little to hide her disbelief at the suggestion. No one, no matter how oblivious, would consider a bit of weather a credible explanation for the war transpiring on their front lawns, would they?

“Did Kara tell you I lost my parents when I was twelve?” Paige glanced momentarily at Alex, then directed her gaze back out to the dome. There were bots programmed to construction, farming, much of the substantial work that went into creating New Krypton accomplished by what Kara had referred to as Kalex units. For every Kryptonian she saw out in the dome, there were at least ten Kalex flitting about. 

“My adoptive parents died in a car crash.” Paige continued. She rolled up the sleeve of her left arm, the arm on which she wore Kara’s gift. Pointing to a long-faded scar that ran the length of her bicep, she added, “I survived. I was thrown, or orbed and landed outside of the car with quite a few injuries.” Alex studied the scar then Paige’s face with curiosity. “Some people bury trauma, some get buried by it. What we would never suggest is that PTSD is the result of someone choosing not to be shiny and happy. Given our druthers, we’d all choose to be shiny and happy but trauma defrauds choice particularly for someone who lives a daily life touched by violence.” Paige looked pointedly at Alex as she drew her sleeve back down, as though covering the evidence of her own trauma. “To succumb emotionally, to give in and let depression or anger take control, isn’t a far-fetched suggestion even for an alien superhero.” Alex pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood for Paige’s professional opinion on any of this.

“Kara might not be human but she is driven by the very same emotions that dictate the behavior of most humans. She laughs. She cries. She gets angry.” Alex could not simply accept any of this at face value. Kara wasn’t just Alex’s responsibility. They were kindred and none of that had been questioned before the Kryptonians had interceded in their lives. “Believe me, I get it.” Alex glanced at the younger woman, feeling no small amount of contrition in admitting, “The fact that she plasters on a smile and eats pot stickers and ice cream hours after I …” Alex paused, flashing back to the moment of Astra’s death. She licked her lips and continued if shakily. “I get that it’s evidence in the form of denial that she bears the capability to be consumed by the self same feelings to which we all succumb eventually.” Alex blew out a breath, frustrated, helpless. 

“It is unrealistic to assume at depth, she's evolved beyond the pesky negative emotions that lead to depression or lashing out. In fact, having one uber happy setting screams trauma. What does anyone expect?” Alex shook her head, “When she was little, there wasn’t a way to provide her with the kind of help … she was a secret, classified and compartmentalized. There was no reading in the local child psychologist to manage her night terrors or figure out how or why one day she just separated herself from the sadness.” Alex turned back to watch several Kalex units flit past carrying what despite their unfamiliar appearance were undoubtedly construction materials. “She cut it off, an emotional amputation. I didn’t see so much as a tear for years, just that gorgeous smile.”

“The violence of the loss Kara experienced at such a young age certainly encouraged her to avoid sadness and anger.” Paige nodded agreement. “Bearing witness to the destruction of her home planet, the deaths of her family, her culture, society, the entire population in a violent conflagration, knowing no one died peacefully, and being left to handle that essentially alone inspired her to develop alternative techniques for avoiding pain.” Paige hesitated, careful and not wanting to offend but knowing it needed to be said.

“Every one of her friendships, established familial bonds, and interactions at her previous job demonstrate severely unbalanced power dynamics.” Alex visibly stiffened in response and Paige waited for the woman lash out, to deny the charge.

“We all expect her to be Supergirl.” Alex conceded, through gritted teeth. “We insist her responsibility is to be better than all of us, thus demanding she disavow all natural reaction to the challenges in her life.” Alex sighed, loosening her jaw, and glanced again at Paige. Alex hadn’t exactly been planning on quick to the minute therapy but Paige’s efforts weren’t entirely dismissed. “She never learned how to deal with her own trauma and now we tell her every day she’s not allowed to deal with it because it clashes with the Supergirl narrative. One can only expect such stresses to build well beyond tolerance.”

“Kara is deeply loved by those who know her but that love comes with expectation, an almost ultimatum that renders her support system questionable, relationship dynamics worrisome.” Paige tilted her head, letting the apparent accusation in that statement cool a bit before she persisted. “The trauma she carries, the inability to find a healthy catharsis for her rage, and the exposure she suffered on a daily basis to extreme violence when she was Supergirl, is a perfect storm. Send a bullied kid to school knowing she's getting into fights on the playground every day while teachers stand by and watch, what’s eventually going to happen?”

“What are you suggesting, exactly?” Alex asked, her tone grim. On some level, she already knew the answer but she needed the confirmation.

“She’s not infallible, and as impressive as all this is …” Paige gestured, taking in all of New Krypton. “Kara Danvers and General Kara Zor-El are two very different constructs, neither of them wholly people so much as the parts of one, parts that will eventually come into conflict.” Eyes still caught in the wonder before them, Paige reached out and clasped Alex’s hand in a gesture of sorority. “She needs you, craves your support.”

“I have a duty.” Alex swallowed, hand stiff in Paige’s grasp.

“Very well.” Paige nodded. She released Alex’s hand with a quick squeeze. “Just keep in mind, the Kara you knew, what’s left of her won’t survive a betrayal, not from you.”

 

Bury Me in Satin

Admittedly caught snooping, Hermione just missed the look on Bellatrix LeStrange’s face at happening upon an intruder in her home such as it was. “Find anything interesting, pet?” Bellatrix inquired as she let the door to her chambers slam shut and lock behind her. The sound was enough to set Hermione’s heart racing but she tempered her instinct to jump, spin wildly spewing explanations and excuses. Instead, she carefully replaced the photograph in her hands where she found it. She’d been surprised to see the well-worn picture of the Black sisters in their youth, taken on the grounds of Hogwarts. To her knowledge, relations remained strained at best between Bellatrix and Narcissa. Andromeda, on the other hand, had been an outspoken detractor when it was decided Bellatrix would serve out her sentence at Hogwarts as DADA Professor. Seemed the youngest Black sister thought Bellatrix well-deserved a life in Azkaban under the close attention of an amorous dementor.

Bellatrix tracked Hermione as she drew uncomfortably close to the younger witch. Hermione, flinching a bit at the dwindling space left between them, searched about for a bit of distance but the furnishings allowed for little in the way of breathing room. Bellatrix certainly hadn’t been offered much more than a cell when it came to professor’s choice of chambers. Despite every other appearance, she wasn’t quite being rewarded with tenure here at Hogwarts. Hermione bumped into first the bed then a bookshelf as Bellatrix dogged her attempt to establish a safe perimeter. Finally in determination, she stood her ground. 

“I am not seventeen anymore nor am I scared of you.” Hermione said, feeling her wand fall into her hand from its holster. 

“Well you certainly should be, pet.” Bellatrix replied, lifting her own wand to let it twirl in her inky curls. Not a threat, but it served a reminder. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this both unannounced and unwelcome visit?” Hermione blinked, searching for words but finding herself at an absolute loss. Bellatrix, smirking in disbelief, beat her to the punch. “You need my help?!” She cried incredulous and commenced to cackling in unhindered amusement. She bent at the waist, soon breathless, and heaved as though she might be physically sick from merriment.

“In a matter of speaking.” Hermione spat, nose upturned at the display.

“Well by all means.” Bellatrix straightened, still chuckling, and threw her arms wide. “Make yourself at home Mudpup. I rarely hear anything half so amusing in this infernal prison. I’ll listen if only for a bit of entertainment before I’m due at my next class of idiots.”

 

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall read the front page headline of the Tattler with trepidation. It did not bode well, nor did the hastily penned story that followed.

Bellatrix Black LeStrange disappears from Hogwarts, her magical trace neutralized with the apparent aid of none other than Muggle-born veteran of the second wizarding war, Hermione Granger. Granger herself a pardoned convict of Azkaban following a short six month incarceration three years ago on charges of terrorism for her part in staging a protest within the halls of the Ministry of Magic that rendered the Floo Network and Wizarding Wireless inoperative for three weeks. Granger currently sits on the governing board of the highly controversial, state-independent Muggle-born Department of Social Services which publicly advocates for the oft-coined “mudblood agenda” of equal rights and representation in wizarding society. Granger and LeStrange are considered fugitives from justice. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department Aurors seek any tips or sightings that may lead to the capture of these two dangerous criminals.

Minerva returned the parchment to her desk, standing to regard the world outside her compact window. Madam Hooch was training a whole new generation of witches and wizards in the mechanics of flight. She recalled what seemed not so long ago when Hermione Granger had been an attentive first year in that very class. Even longer still since a young Bellatrix LeStrange had feigned boredom but submitted to Hooch’s stern instruction. How did time pass so inexorably with so little benevolence towards those caught in its whim, the Headmistress pondered. Soon the dementors would be about, tracking the two most talented and perhaps most troubled students she’d ever had the pleasure to instruct. The wizarding world had little forgiveness for talented witches of any age, Minerva mused, returning to her desk and the students who occupied her present rather than those which haunted her past.

 

Tell me of war.  
Tell me of sacrifice or of death  
Tell me a sad tale or sing to me  
and catch the melancholy breadth  
of battle

Of those tested heroes  
Those fallen and forlorn  
Of the bounty in blood  
Shed by enemies in scorn

Tell me  
And I’ll listen near  
And in accounting  
For this I’ll hear  
Folly or the bitter truth  
Tell me of war  
Of the wretched loosed

Tell your tale  
As I gird and form rank  
Your tale to honor  
These lives to thank  
It is yet not in war we seed our love  
But in the sacred telling of

 

From the sky, Paige had finally a glimpse of destruction. She spied Prue, infinite. Like a string of paper dolls made flesh to ring the perimeter of the manor. Iteration upon iteration, she stood, she fought, she cast. One of her astral poppets yanked the heart from a darklighter and set it aflame in her hand. One stomped upon a face, booted heel cleaving skin, then skull. One attacked, with unerring speed; and accurate, she struck eyes or hearts her index finger directing the contents of a pilfered quiver of cursed arrows. And one, and one, and one over and again, dealt mercenary justice. If any was actually the beating, breathing body that caged the soul of Prue Halliwell, it was but a guess.

Freya and Frederick Beauchamp stood hand in hand. Visible only as an ethereal outline for their bodies shone, blinding, but no wall of heat to accompany. There was, in fact, a wind, a vortex that sucked greedily pulling white and darklighters in to be consumed. They fell by the dozen, a hundred gone in minutes, as the light only brightened and the wind only deepened its roar. They were ravenous.

And there a puma, Wendy Beauchamp, garishly lethal at Cordelia’s side, she was content to rend flesh in a bloody confetti that blanketed the lawn. Grim, Cordelia waded through a stew of mismatched parts, a puzzle of limbs. Her arms flew in tandem, wielding a gleaming weapon that dispatched bodies from heads as she simultaneously cast, cursing those spared the quicker mercy of her blade. And crimson rained all around them.

At last the trifecta of spell authors, Joanna, Ingrid and Phoebe stood back to back surveying the enemy from the street. Their lips spun mayhem the likes of which tore indelicately at reality’s seams. All things are but their constituent parts held together by the energy of the universe, by hope, by a theme to defy chaos. But chaos was art in their hands, and it could unmake anything given their attention. The streaming horde of white and darklighters just ceased to be as they crossed the wavering boundary in space, shimmering like heat above the pavement. 

The manor was rubble. Nothing recognizable left but burnt brick, crumbled mortar. Paige could lay eyes on little through the edge of smoke that carried with it brimstone and scorched flesh. She’d sent a text to Willow at the Council when she’d returned to Earth from New Krypton. It had said, Do not come; for if we fail, there will be few left who might yet stand against the Host and all my despised kin. That was a choice she would not allow herself to regret. She could hear someone crying beyond the pall of dust. As much as she wanted to reach them, to assist, she was far too busy greeting her own imminent end.

“Abomination,” The creature, neither man nor angel, grinned through its artful human mask. The sight or perhaps the arrow in her breast only made Paige grimace. “Today you will breathe your …” He exploded in flames, a screaming rictus but a moment before nothing but ash. Paige winced at the sudden heat, heaving pathetic attempts at breath and gazed upon her savior.

“Took you long enough.” Paige coughed, bloody sputum dotting her chin. She steadied herself, placing her thoughts as far away from the pain as she could manage. As luck would have it she’d been shot in the right breast, sparing her heart though apparently it had not failed in grazing one of her lungs. Piper knelt at her side to tap at the arrow shaft. Vision swirled as the pain again bloomed at the center of her concentration, Paige swatted her away. “What I meant to say was thanks.”

“More like it.” Piper replied, arching a brow in question. “Can you manage that?” Paige nodded, steadying herself, and orbed the arrow into her hand. Piper took it from her, inadvertently covering her hand in Paige’s blood. “This, I think I can bring to some use.” Paige hummed, only half listening. She lent the maximum concentration to healing the wound in her breast. That had been unpleasant, she thought. Piper helped her to her feet.

“Any sign of …” Paige began but Piper shook her head in anticipation of the question.

“Not since the house went boom.”

“I think someone’s trapped.” Paige indicated the direction from which she’d heard the crying. Two figures flashed past mid-grapple and close enough to touch, one with actual wings and the other clad in the black uniform of the Kryptonian army. Paige and Piper peered into the darkness. There was only the sound of fighting from every direction. Startled, Paige jumped feeling a hand on her shoulder.

“Kara!” Paige exclaimed, throwing her arms momentarily around the haggard woman in relief. She was a mess, the amassed story of a pitched and gory battle that even now remained uncertain.

“You’re okay.” Kara held tight a moment, letting the relief, albeit momentary, fill her. Though Lesla-Lar had insisted the necessity of her presence at Kara’s side, argued in fact with vehemence, Kara’s orders were inviolate. Her second in command would remain on New Krypton with half of their number, to wait and watch the battle. Kara would not risk the future of her people, even for this cause to which she might soon lend her last breath. Thus left with a contingent of five hundred of her soldiers arrayed in flight above the manor, they’d set their heat vision to the task of decimating the enemy though severely outnumbered. Lesla-Lar’s intel indicated that even as they fought, little could be done of their foe’s uninterrupted introduction of combattants fresh to the field of battle. Kara knew these sons and daughters of Krypton could and would hold to the last. But of their allies on the ground, pitted in this pitched assault, there might soon be no one left. “I saw you hit by one of those horrible arrows.”

“Mmm, industrious fuckers my kin” Paige pulled back grinning. “Haven’t killed me yet.” The look on Kara’s face darkened. Her people had infused some inkling of a possible end to this combat, but the Host, Paige’s kin were undeterred in their mission. And so many deaths to coat her hands … Kara shook her head to clear her thoughts. She could not be pulled into grief when war raged all around them.

“Your friend Hermione and that dark one she had with her ...”

“Bellatrix.” Paige offered nodding. “They took out an entire flank with an exploding curse.”

“And the manor with it.” Piper muttered, shaking her head.

“Have you seen them since?” Paige shook her head. It had been chaos after the explosion. She’d taken an arrow to the chest in her distraction and fallen from her careful vantage point hovering above the front yard. Kara sighed her disappointment.

“We may soon have gained the advantage with those two. If you find, them …” Kara was hit from behind, yanked into the murk and quickly obscured from sight. Paige looked up in time to receive a vicious blow that sent her reeling through the air, leaving Piper behind to face this latest assailant. Paige manage to orb just short of an unpleasant introduction to power lines and rematerialized, woozy but on her feet in the middle of the street.

“Paige?” She didn’t recognize the voice, and to her eyes the source only a shadow cutting through the smoke that swirled around them. “Paige is that you?” It wasn’t one of her sisters, nor the Beauchamps. Paige steadied herself, peering as the figure solidified the closer it drew. She could make out the broad shoulders and well-above average height of a man. 

“Who are you?” She called, not bothering to bandy about threats. If he intended her harm, she’d end him without care or warning. He said nothing in return, but stepped close enough for Paige to discern his features. His hair was salt and pepper fading into gray, that trailed into a beard more truly stubble than anything. Lines cut deep into his face, and the corners of his eyes, though crinkled in an effort to spy Paige through the gloom, were decidedly blue. He held his hands still at his sides and he was little more in appearance than an aging man lost on a battlefield.

“Paige?” He ventured as he halted a few feet away. “I’m …”

“I know who you are.” Paige replied, face blank. “Father.” He made a valiant effort at a smile as though pleased to hear it, this dubious word falling from her lips. What would he say, Paige wondered, if she allowed it. She watched as his mouth worked, rounding on whatever words he thought she would welcome. “Or perhaps it is better I call you,” Paige smiled, as he froze, his face a revelation, “Samael.”

Just before it had begun, Paige had gazed at her family gathered outside the manor - all of them family, Halliwells and Beauchamps. She knew it might be the last she saw any one of those faces, none of them bright or eager, simply determined. But in that moment, they were safe, protected, in a bubble of impenetrable magic. Nothing in Paige’s heart or mind encouraged her to defy that, to change the one thing that would change everything. But that is obligation. She’d been born an abomination not because she defied some natural order, but because she alone was capable of the truest testament of faith. She raised her hands, splayed wide, brushing against the energy’s deadly edge, and commanded, “Drop the wards.”

 

In the news, there had been a short blurb about a gas main explosion in one of San Francisco’s historic neighborhoods destroying a single home but taking no lives. National weather, meanwhile, reported that after an inexplicable blizzard paralyzed an entire neighborhood, trapping people inside their homes for days, clear skies and highs in the mid seventies.

Lesla-Lar had sent a Kalex unit to help in the reconstruction of the manor. It was a handy little shortcut that would hopefully see the Halliwells back in their home in days rather than months. There had been no word of Kara’s whereabouts or well-being. Paige had every intention of allowing the Kryptonian General her privacy so long as there remained no indication that Kara might be in any danger. Kara still wore the pendant, that which Paige had worn since birth but had placed upon Kara’s neck before their first mission together in space. It linked them intrinsically and Paige had meant the words of her promise - If ever you should need me.

The battle of Halliwell Manor had not gone unnoticed in the magical world. When Paige published her thesis paper to a preprint server and linked it on twitter #ASAPPhysics, her email had been flooded with responses within the hour, with initially few from other Physics scholars. She’d turned away requests for interviews on wizarding wireless though her face persisted in covering the front page of every newspaper in wizarding society for days. Perhaps anything was better taking precedent over the headlines, Granger and LeStrange Remain At Large. If only they knew Paige had thought as she recalled the moment of finding their bodies, bloodied but yet unbroken under a pile of bricks. As Paige had dug and orbed, and clawed, she could hear emanating from the mound Bellatrix’s intermittent cackling and sobbing, “She saved me. She saved me.” 

Piper’s one bedroom apartment over the Patisserie was far too cramped for four Halliwells and Cordelia popping in when her work at the Council in London allowed. With the Power of Three quite capable to oversee the rebuilding of their ancestral home, Paige chose to spend some time in East End. Ensconced behind the wards the Beauchamps had perfected over generations, she ignored the tidal wave of emails and had little worry of carrier owls. There was coffee in the garden each morning, tea before the fire most nights, and in between she tried her hand at baking. Wendy and Joanna welcomed her gratefully. Even if at all idle, her presence was nevertheless a boon against grief. Joanna pregnant again, had little else for company. And though there was relief in her Father’s curse, knowing her children would be reborn, her every instinct was to mourn the lives Frederick, Freya, and Ingrid had offered valiantly to a fight that had not proved impossible in the end. No one to witness these deaths in the chaos save Piper who would not speak of it. She’d only been able to offer Joanna the comfort that their deaths had been swift. 

Paige had a taste of quietness, of life without the ever constant threat of it violently ending. She was just beginning to relax into it, to take her first deep breath, when involuntarily she orbed. She rematerialized on New Krypton amidst booted feet pounding the corridors and the unsettling cadence of alarms. Startled from her confused paralysis, Paige in turn grasped the familiar hand on her arm.

“Kara!” 

“Paige.” Paige could see in the shuttered eyes, the smile that no longer beamed, just stretched mechanically wide. Unsettled, Paige held back the hug of greeting fearing she would not be met with the warmth she’d come to know at the heart of her friend. General Kara Zor-El, carefully led a path through the frenzy of activity. “I fear I’ve learned who released your kin.” Grim-faced, Paige accepted the gauntlet of knowledge that the quiet for which she had yearned was beyond her yet.

“There is nothing so persistent as war.”

 

Darwin’s Fifth

“Dr. Eliza Danvers.”

“Hey Mom.”

“Alex sweetie, I’m so glad you called. This preprint Physics paper is all anyone is talking about at Irvine. Did you get the link I sent you?”

“Yeah, it’s uh …” Alex cleared her throat. “Listen, I have a question.”

“Okay.” Eliza Danvers prompted. “What’s on your mind?”

“Polyphyly.”

“Is this for research? I know a handful of taxonomists I can put you in touch with, in fact …” Eliza’s voice tapered to incoherent mumbling and Alex could hear typing in the background as her mother searched through her email contacts.

“Yeah maybe that would be helpful. But I actually wanted your input.” Alex breathed, then, “Two species who do not share a common ancestor from which all living organisms are descended, given geographical and biological means and opportunity may breed successfully. Correct?”

“In practice, there’s not enough substantiated evidence; but theoretically yes. That’s the basis for hybrid speciation.” Eliza murmured, distracted. “Since when are you so interested in Evolutionary Biology?”

“Well …” Swallowing, Alex didn’t just lean in, she pitched forward. “Since I’m pregnant.”


	9. Teaser

With best attempts at a cliffhanger, let's recap and take a quick glimpse at what you can yet expect from Not Quite Gods.

1\. Who is our intrepid heroine now? Is she Kara Danvers National City's breakthrough artist of the year or is she General Kara Zor-El leader of New Krypton? And is there no hope for Supergirl?  
2\. Alex is preggers and so far she's only told her mom - quiet is kept. Or is it? After all, who might find interest in a possible Alien-Human hybrid with super powers?  
3\. Hermione and Bellatrix survived the battle but are fugitives from justice. Is there any way safely home for them?  
4\. Paige and Kara must face off against the true threat, that which released Paige's kin and kicked off the final battle in the war against Heaven.  
5\. Cordelia and Prue still haven't gotten their Big Gay Wedding ... yet.  
6\. And finally, one of the Halliwell's is keeping quite a secret.

Onward to Onus!


End file.
